Ninety days of darkness
by Fragilereality
Summary: Voldemort was triumphant and Hermione Granger has been a prisoner in Malfoy Manor for three months. At Voldemort's behest she is engaged to a reluctant Lucius Malfoy. Hermione is not easily subjugated and ninety days in the dark can change a person beyond all recognition. AU. Rated M for sexual content and violence, as dark as I'm every likely to get - still not that dark!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Welcome readers. I want to say a massive thank you to Elena Tria for allowing me to use her beautiful artwork as the cover for this fic. If you like Lucius (or Severus, or Captain Hook) then check out her wonderful gallery (link in my bio - the fan fiction bots won't let me post one here) This image is called Lucius' gloves.**

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"Miss Granger."

It was the first time she had heard her name spoken, had heard any word spoken in three months. She schooled herself to ignore it concentrating on the burn of pain across her chest. She kept her chin tucked in, arms straight beneath her shoulders as she mentally counted: _45, 46._

 _"_ Miss Granger." Louder, clipped and aristocratic, and slightly irritated.

Back straight, core locked in tight, her toes pressing into the flagstones: _47, 48, 49._

 _"_ Miss Granger," like a whip this time.

 _50._

She completed the final press up and scrambled to her feet retreating to the back of her cell where she knew the light from the barred window on the other side of the corridor would not penetrate. She hurriedly pulled on the long sleeved cotton T-shirt and shabby jeans she had shed during her workout, already feeling the chill of the cellar cooling her sweaty body.

Ninety days. It had been ninety days since someone, anyone had spoken to her and now all he could do was repeat her name. As if her name meant anything to her anymore. For a time she had longed for company, even his would have been better than the loneliness and the darkness. Even Lord Voldemort would have been welcome. Not now. Now the ebb and flow of her days was dictated by the thin ray of sunlight that filtered through the window opposite. The traversing of the golden shard across the bars of her cell had become her own personal sundial, her movements choreographed by its progress. Now the light had hit the third bar on the door of her cell. She should have been finished her press ups and starting her routine of squats and lunges but _he_ had interrupted her. For no apparent purpose, as far as she could see, than to chant the name which no longer felt like hers.

"Miss Granger, please move to the front of the cell where I can see you." I will not ask again. She heard the smooth whisper of wood on wood and knew that he had drawn his wand. Sighing she moved to stand close to the bars, staring blankly at the man in front of her. He had not changed. Lucius Malfoy was as beautiful as ever, a fallen angel, golden halo set alight by the sunlight from her window. He was as implacably cold and distant as he had always been. Dressed in his elaborate robes, his cloak fastened at the neck by a ruby eyed snake. He was separated from her by so much more than the bars between them.

"What happened to your hair?"

Her eyes flicked to his before she looked away again. There was nothing about this man that interested her.

"It got in my way."

She had already been in the dungeon for a month when Draco had come to her. Terrified and shivering he had knelt before the bars and begged her forgiveness. He had confirmed her deepest fears. Harry and Ron were dead. The light had fallen and Voldemort now ruled the wizarding world. After he had left she had cried. She had cried for days and wished for her own death until finally. there had been no more tears to shed and death had not taken her. From somewhere within had risen a cold determination the like of which she had never known before. She surrendered to her cause, her old self almost entirely subsumed by what she now perceived to be her task. She assembled and examined her arsenal.

Shocked by the weakness of her body after weeks of captivity she had begun to exercise. Remembering snippets of her mother's workout DVDs and the classes they had occasionally attended together during the school holidays. Press ups, squats, lunges and curls, chin ups in the doorway, star jumps, running on the spot. There were twelve bars on the door to her cell. Time was divided into twelve increments, four of which she dedicated to her physical fitness.

As she exercised her mind began to clear a little. Where there had been misery and despair now there was a cold, frightening void. Not anger, not pain, not anything but a need to finish what she and her two friends had started. As she forced her weak body into action she pondered her options. What could she do here in her prison cell to ensure her eventual victory? Her mind had always been her greatest asset she had honed it with books and knowledge, but how would she strengthen it here without any tools to aid her?

She had read much about the practice of occlumency when Harry had tried and failed to learn and now she applied those principles to herself. She quickly found that her ordered sensible mind was suited to the discipline. She rearranged her mental files, the confusion and doubt of the last few weeks were cleared away as she neatly filed, shelved and categorised her memories. Then she took the kernel, the very centre of what made her and hid it in her safe room. Beyond that she constructed a library containing every thought and memory both conscious and sub-conscious. Then she began to build her defences.

Her fractured days were divided into twelve. With four fragments occupied by exercise and four more by occlumency and meditation four more waited to be filled. She turned her mind to the practice of wandless magic. A feat she would never have considered herself capable of had she not once cast the confundus charm without the use of her wand. Of course it had been in extremis, she had been so distressed at Ron's failure she had cast without planning or thinking. But if she had done it once surely the pathway must remain open somewhere within her. She began to practice in earnest and as her skills in occlumency grew and her mental library became even more ordered, her skills improved.

Her days were filled now, she would hone herself and when the time came she would be ready. She had no time for interruptions, no time for the irrelevance that was Lucius Malfoy.

He was still looking at her, almost expectantly, as if she might have more to say on the matter of her hair or something else perhaps. She ignored him. She was used to passing the time in silence. He shifted slightly.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you."

She was surprised but she knew that not a flicker of that emotion was shown on her face. She took a step back from the bars. "I'm sure he knows where to find me." Her voice was husky and dry, she had not spoken with anyone since Draco had left.

Malfoy regarded her steadily. "Do not make this any more difficult for yourself than it already is, Miss Granger. You will come with me willingly, or I will use the Imperius curse, the choice is yours."

She wondered if she could kill him. She was strong now, but Malfoy had a good six inches in height and several stone in weight on her. Plus he had a wand. She had never cast the killing curse let alone without a wand.

A few days ago she thought she had stunned a rat as it ran through the cellar. She contemplated casting a wandless _stupefy_ in Malfoy's direction. But the man waiting outside the cell was considerably larger than a rat and even if she did stun him he wouldn't stay down for long. Having not the means to kill him, and no wish to aggravate him if it were not for her own gain, she gave in to the inevitable.

"I will come with you." There was no anger, no defiance, no fear. She said the words, nothing more.

He forced her to precede him down the hallway keeping his wand drawn. She was rather flattered. She would have thought that a Death Eater with the arrogance of Lucius Malfoy would have considered himself quite safe in the company of an unarmed Hermione Granger. As they reached the glowing circle of light which heralded the staircase out of the dungeons she stopped abruptly.

"Wait."

Malfoy stopped beside her. "Miss Granger." There was a warning in his voice.

She ignored him and, lifting her top, up tore a strip of cloth from the vest underneath, which she proceeded to tie around her eyes. The last thing she saw was Malfoy's own eyes lingering on her briefly exposed midriff.

"What are you doing?"

"It has taken me three months to adapt the darkness of your dungeon Mr Malfoy, I have no desire to be blind when you return me to it." Her blindfold in place she started confidently towards the dungeon steps.

She was not rendered completely blind, the fabric of her vest was worn thin from many washings and she could make out the shapes around her easily enough. Despite the protection of her blindfold the light still stung her eyes as they reached the top of the dungeon stairway. She waited for him at the top of the stairs and was surprised when he took her arm. His warm fingers curled around her bicep and she marvelled at the sensation of another body touching hers. How she had taken for granted the casual touch of another human being in her previous life. Now it felt strange, as if the heat of his fingers might burn into her arm leaving her permanently branded.

She followed him docilely into a room she well remembered. Even blindfold she could make out the furniture of the drawing room and the shapes that sat behind a long table there. Even if she hadn't been able to see him she would have sensed the chilling presence of Lord Voldemort.

She looked around observing several familiar faces. Even the wild eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange had no impact on her. She suddenly wondered if she had died and come back a ghost. Why else would she be so empty?

"Luciasss." She heard Voldemort's sibilant tones and turned to where the snake like man sat at the head of the council table. "You've brought your prize I see, pray tell why you have blindfolded it?"

"She chose to blindfold herself My Lord, she does not wish her vision to be impaired when she returns to the dungeon."

To Hermione's surprise Voldemort gave a chilling laugh. "When she returns to the dungeon? I see you haven't shared your happy news with Miss Granger. Take off the blindfold girl." His voice brooked no argument and Hermione quickly pulled the cloth away from her face. Her eyes burned with the sudden onslaught of light and she blinked furiously as her pupils desperately constricted. Before she had a chance to compose herself she felt the touch of Voldemort's mind against her own. She wondered if he meant to be subtle, if she was supposed to be unaware of his probing. She could feel every incursion as he twisted sinuously inside her brain. Surprisingly there was no pain, only a sensation of something horribly dirty brushing against her.

She had so little to hide. She opened the doors and gave him free access to every tiny aspect of her life, every thought, every dream, every failure. She allowed emotions she had repressed for years and months free reign as she poured the entire essence of her being into him. Finally she pushed her most recent thoughts to the fore of her mind.

He pulled back suddenly giving a wry chuckle. "Such contempt for you Luciusss, I would not wish to be in your place."

"Nonetheless, I am honoured to serve, My Lord."

Hermione looked back and forth between the two wondering what they were talking about. She felt relief that Voldemort was gone from her mind but perhaps something else, something like disappointment that he had been so easy to deceive.

"Our blushing bride is looking for answers Luciusss," Voldemort hissed. "Why don't you tell her of our plans?"

A muscle flickered in the line of Malfoy's jaw as her turned towards Hermione. "The Dark Lord has generously gifted me your hand in marriage, Miss Granger."

Hermione quite forgot herself as she let out a bark of laughter. "What a ridiculous idea." She curled her lip at the thought of herself and Lucius Malfoy engaged in anything other than bitter warfare. "Besides I believe you already have a wife." She looked around, searching for Narcissa. She was in time to see Bellatrix raise her wand and Voldemort place a restraining hand on her arm.

"I'm afraid you are somewhat behind with the times, Miss Granger. Luciusss is now a free man, and what better way to cheer the public and ease their worried minds than by having a muggleborn witch marry a pureblood wizard and one of my most loyal supporters?"

"Are you mad?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Do you really think seeing me brought out in chains kicking and screaming and married off to this vile piece of shit is going to endear you to anyone?" She didn't see Lucius' reaction but Voldemort's snake like eyes narrowed and he lifted his arm from that of Bellatrix. "As you will Bella." he murmured softly.

Hermione had plenty of time to brace herself, Bellatrix's intention was obvious and as the cruciatus curse hit her she had already retreated into her safe room slamming every door in her path and huddling in the furthest darkest corner. The pain tore through her body, a thousand needles pierced her skin. Her head was clamped in a vice her guts wrung out from the inside. All of it was happening so far away though and to somebody else. She waited patiently for it to be over. Dimly though the doorway of her safe room she heard Lucius speak.

"I believe that is enough Bella, it is bad enough to be married to a mudblood don't leave her an imbecile too."

The pain receded and Hermione gradually allowed her consciousness to slip back into her body. She was curled on the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, small crescent shaped indents on the palms of her hands where she had clenched them in agony.

"It didn't scream." Bella was pouting at Voldemort. Lucius was staring fixedly ahead. Hermione braced herself for another blast but Voldemort seemed disinclined to allow Bellatrix to play further.

"I'm sure Luciusss will find a way to break her sspirit, my dear." He looked down at Hermione who had made no effort to rise. "You will be married at the ministry of magic in one month's time." His red eyes turned towards Lucius. "I suggest you make sure she is more docile by then Luciusss."

He rose and left the room his entourage filing out behind him. Hermione remained on the floor, breathing slowly, mentally assessing her body. Her muscles were fasiculating wildly she noticed with some interest. Her increased muscle tone rendered her less quick to recover from the cruciatus than before. What an unpleasant side effect to physical fitness.

Somewhere above her Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat. She looked up to see that he had extended his hand to her. It was large, the fingernails neat and well manicured. Several rings adorned the fingers. She considered ignoring it but then decided there was little point in spiting him. Her body ached and it would be easier to rise with his help than without. She placed her fingers in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"That was either very brave or very stupid," he remarked, averting his eyes as she leant on the table breathing heavily. The world spun around her.

"You think I should not aggravate your master?" she asked breathlessly.

"Not if you wish to live."

She straightened up meeting his grey eyes squarely. "Living is not particularly high on my list of priorities."

He regarded her silently for a moment before dropping his gaze. "I will show you to your room," He turned and swept out of the room, clearly expecting her to follow. She considered the wandless _stupefy_ again before remembering that she could barely stand, let alone stun anyone.

She followed him as best she could on her trembling legs until they came to a large and rather grand staircase. Malfoy started up it but turned halfway when he realised that Hermione was clinging to the banister only three steps up. She refused to look at him, angry at herself for showing any weakness, angry with her body for letting her down so quickly. He muttered something inelegant under his breath before he descended the stairs and lifted her into his arms.

"Put me down." She struggled against him.

"Be still you little fool." He shook her hard, as one might shake an errant kitten, and to her own surprise she stopped struggling. There seemed little point in protesting, her muscles were too weak to fight him. She might as well preserve her strength.

He carried her easily, as if she weighed nothing and after a moment she rested her head against his chest enjoying the warmth he emanated. Cold had been her constant companion in the dungeon, only kept at bay by hours of exercise. Starved of physical contact for so long she was acutely aware of the touch of his body against hers, the beating of his heart, the slow inhalation and exhalation which seemed unaffected by carrying a dead weight up a lengthy staircase. Lucius Malfoy was carrying her up the stairs of Malfoy Manor. She was living the romantic dreams of a hundred Slytherin girls, she almost laughed at the thought.

He did not set her down when they reached the top of the stairs, merely shifted her weight in his arms and carried her to the end of a long corridor.

"This is your room." He kicked open a door and set her down carefully just inside it. She clutched his arm feeling her legs about to buckle, but quickly pulled away as soon as she was able to take her own weight. The room was a vast improvement on her cell. In fact it looked like the bedroom in a muggle regency novel. The walls were lined with heavy cream paper with a busy blue floral pattern, the large bed was covered in a matching blue and white bed spread and a pretty white dressing table and vanity mirror stood in one corner. A large floor to ceiling window faced out onto the grounds of the manor and, forgetting herself for a moment she crossed to the window and pressed her hands against the glass staring out at the expanse of lawn, at the sun, at the sky.

"I thought the world was gone," she said to herself.

Malfoy cleared his throat and she spun to face him, wondering if he was about to begin her subjugation. He was simply staring at her, his head tilted slightly to one side.

"I suggest you bathe and change." His voice was expressionless, "You may go where you please in the manor with the exception of my chambers. I would ask that you do not attempt to escape, the wards are most powerful. You may summon an elf if you require assistance, however they have been instructed not to allow you to leave."

She nodded her understanding as he began to withdraw.

"Dinner is at seven."

"Wait!"

He paused in the doorway.

"You want me to eat with you?"

He didn't reply immediately, his face cold. "Dinner is at seven." He repeated before he closed the door and she was left alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Here's the next instalment. Thank you so much to everybody who has reviewed, favourited and followed already. I'm really nervous about this fic. It's much harder to try and write something that isn't just smut so your reviews really do reassure me that I'm on the right track. Although I have a first draft for the whole story written I'm also very open to ideas so please keep telling me where you want the story to go.**

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She returned to the window and stood looking out for a long time. Then she picked up the chair that accompanied the dressing table and, using all of her strength, hurled it against the glass. It bounced off the air several inches from the window frame and ricocheted back onto Hermione knocking her to the ground. She sighed as she replaced it. Her paltry attempt at escape had been worth a try although she wasn't sure how she had planned to scale the sheer walls of the manor even if she had succeeded in breaking the window.

Escape not currently an option she settled for exploration opening every cupboard and drawer in the room. The wardrobe was filled with clothes, all her size and apparently new. The drawers of the dressing table contained an assortment of underwear and a hairbrush. She almost wept as she held the wooden handled implement to her chest. On the other side of the room from the entrance there was another doorway which she found led to a very opulent en-suite bathroom with a huge claw footed Victorian bath. At her approach the enchanted taps began to gush with water and she couldn't help but smile as the room was filled with fragrant steam. A full length mirror stood to one side of the sink and she approached with trepidation.

She barely recognised the girl in front of her. Her face was gaunt, her cheekbones impossibly high and her mouth a narrow slash in her pale face. Her eyes also appeared larger and although their soft caramel colour was unchanged they had a haunted quality that had not previously been there. Her face demonstrated the same brittle weariness she remembered seeing in the faces of refugee children who had been forced to grow up too quickly. The smattering of freckles across her nose had faded away to almost nothing. She reached a hand up to touch her hair. Shorn off above her shoulders it stuck almost straight out from her head in a matted mess. She had tried to keep clean in the dungeon, saving a portion of her drinking water each day for washing but she could see now that dirt was deeply ingrained in the folds of her skin, the backs of her hands were grimy and her nails filthy. She wondered how a man as fastidious as Lucius Malfoy could have borne her touch. Perhaps he was at this moment stripping off and burning his soiled clothes.

The thought was enough to spur her into action. She stripped naked sparing only the briefest of glances to her skinny frame before climbing into the bath and submerging her entire body in the hot water. She stayed in the bath for hours. Getting out twice to allow the dirty water to drain. Each time the enchanted taps refilled the tub again, as if sensing that she was still not clean. Finally her skin scrubbed clean and pink, her hair washed, conditioned and free of tangles she simply lay back and stared at the ceiling. Now she was clean it was time to think.

Even as she had washed her brain had begun the act of mental processing. She could see the genius in Voldemort's plan. Of course he could rule the wizarding world as a dictator, that much was obvious but if he could sway public opinion in his favour then his life would be considerably easier. There would be many families out there. Simple wizarding families who wanted an easy life and would look upon the marriage of Hermione Granger best friend of Harry Potter to Voldemort's lieutenant as permission for their own endorsement of the dark lord. What was it she had once read about the Malfoy's? _They were often seen as the power behind the throne._ The public were used to looking up to the Pureblood family as pillars of society. Add to this the fact that Lucius Malfoy was the perfect poster boy for the campaign. Hermione had seen advertising at work enough in the muggle world to know the value of physical beauty. Malfoy was handsome, rich and charming, it would be easy for the public to forget what an evil bastard he truly was, especially if he had a glowing Hermione Granger clinging onto his arm and hanging off his every word. At the thought she felt a twist of nausea in her stomach. Voldemort's plan reminded her of the complex propaganda machine employed by Hitler and Goebbels during the second world war and she was to be their pawn.

It was clear to Hermione that whether she complied or not the plan would be easy enough to achieve. Even if Malfoy wasn't successful in breaking her – she gave a mental shiver at just what that process might entail – then a well placed _imperius_ ought to be sufficient to have her do their bidding. Or would it? She remembered that Harry had learned to throw off the curse, with her skills in occlumnecy perhaps she would be able to do the same. The thought did not bring her much comfort. Even if she could resist the _imperius_ curse there were likely to be other ways in which to assure her compliance and if not then she was of no further use in this new world order and would be disposed of accordingly.

Her thoughts turned once more to Malfoy. He had not seemed pleased at his prize. She had seen the way some of the other death eaters had leered at her, filthy and undernourished as she was. She felt certain that many of them would have relished the opportunity to break her spirit. But not Malfoy. It made sense she supposed he was a man concerned wholly with appearances. Her malnourished and unclean state rendered her physically unattractive and her blood status ensured that Malfoy would feel nothing for her but disdain. He followed Voldemort for power, but she suspected not the power that was obtained from torture and rape. Therefore Lucius Malfoy had no use for a gift such as she. She would be an embarrassment to him both publicly and privately, what on earth had he done to fall so far from favour?

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"I'm a punishment not a reward." She stepped into the dining room at exactly 7pm and addressed Malfoy who was standing with his back to her gazing into the fireplace. He started at her entrance, then ran his eye slowly over her in a manner which might once have made her feel uncomfortable. She was wearing a long sleeved knee length dress in a material which she suspected was silk. It buttoned down the front to where the matching sash highlighted the narrowness of her waist. Her legs were bare, it was warm in the manor, and she wore a simple pair of black ballet pumps. She was probably underdressed for dinner but she had purposefully chosen the simplest clothes in the wardrobe, hoping that the following day she could prevail upon the house elves to replicate or at least repair her jeans. Malfoy had changed too she noted, wondering if he had indeed had to destroy his clothes after they had made contact with her filthy body. His robes were even more elaborate than previously with silver embroidery at the shoulders, the same snakes' head adorned his throat.

When he finally spoke he gave nothing away. "You appear less of a punishment than you did earlier." He gestured towards a place set at right angles to the head of the table and she sat, watching him carefully as he took his own place.

"Wine?" He offered her, holding the decanter poised above a crystal glass at her place.

She shook her head "No thank you."

He filled his own glass. "You wish to remain alert in order to fend off my unwelcome advances?"

"You don't wish to prevail upon me in that manner." She filled her own glass with water before she calmly met his eyes. "But we both know you will be forced to eventually." Their eyes held his as cold and inscrutable as ever, yet he was the first to look away.

"You are very calm." He remarked.

"Yes." Their plates had filled with food and she regarded the roast duck with interest.

"Considering you are to be forced into marriage with a vile piece of shit."

She tore her eyes away from the food. So he was offended. Lucius Malfoy was offended that Hermione Granger, mudblood did not consider him suitable marriage material. She held back a laugh then filed the information away to use for later. Who would have known his ego was so fragile?

"If it is of any consolation you are the least vile piece of shit on offer." She picked up her knife and fork and carefully cut off a tiny piece of duck. She had survived on gruel and bread for so long she wasn't sure her stomach would take kindly to the re-introduction of meat even if it did smell delicious and come coated in a rich plum glaze.

Malfoy had picked up his own cutlery

"Thank you." He responded.

"You're welcome. What happened to your wife anyway?" She asked the question with a deliberate lack of courtesy and took the opportunity to eat some of her duck while he stared incredulously at her that muscle in his jaw beginning to tick once more.

"You will not speak of my wife again." His voice was glacially cold.

Hermione finished chewing and looked up at him. "Why not, do you have her locked in an attic somewhere?"

"I am warning you mudblood." He had both hands planted on the table now and was leaning towards her a look of cold malevolence in his eyes. "Do not push me or there will be consequences."

Hermione placed her fork down on the table with exaggerated care. "What sort of consequences Mr Malfoy? Will you torture me too?" She raised a hand. "Please just wait one moment," She stood up and stepped out of the way of the table. "I don't want to soil your beautiful rug by pissing myself when you _crucio_ me." She spread her arms wide, "I'm ready now."

His fingers twitched towards his cane and she wondered if she had pushed him too far and he truly would use the unforgivable on her. She found that she cared little either way, whatever his response it would provide her with further information for the mental dossier she was already compiling. They faced each other in silence before he visibly forced himself to relax and once more picked up his eating implements.

"Sit down Miss Granger." She sat. They proceeded to eat in silence.

She cast the occasional glance at her companion. He looked tired, his face had a greyish pallor and. there were fine lines around his eyes which she hadn't noticed during their last encounter. He didn't eat much although he moved his food around the plate in a very convincing manner. Finally he placed his knife and fork neatly together amidst his half eaten dinner. He sat back in his chair and took a large swallow of wine.

"She died."

Hermione was in the middle of removing the last possible morsel of meat from the bone without actually picking it up and gnawing on it and wasn't fully paying attention.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Narcissa, she died."

 _How?_ She suspected that question would not go down well. Instead she returned to her dissection.

"This is where you tell me you're sorry." He prompted.

She looked up at him. "Why?"

He shrugged, "It is polite."

She put the last sliver of meat in her mouth and placed her cutlery on the empty plate. "I spent my whole life being polite Mr Malfoy. Learning the rules. Obeying the conventions. And to what end? Polite lost me every single person I loved and bought me ninety days in the dark. Do you have any idea what that is like, what that does to you?" She rose to her feet. "I barely care whether _I_ live or not. Why on earth do you think I would be sorry for your loss? Why should you be any more immune to tragedy than the rest of us?"

She turned away from him and left the dining room, making for the staircase and the safety of her own bedroom. She half expected him to follow her, for the _Crucio_ which had not come before to sweep her legs from under her, for that malevolent rage in his eyes to bloom to murderous but there was nothing. Even so she placed the chair from her dressing table under the handle of her door before she went to sleep that night.

* * *

He was not at breakfast when she made her way downstairs the following morning. She had apprehended a house elf and after much protestation the shocked creature had transfigured several elegant gowns into pairs of jeans and silk blouses into long sleeved cotton tops. She felt much more herself as she sat at the table and helped herself to a generous serving of bacon and eggs. She had awoken early and completed the first half of her daily workout regime, it felt wonderful to be able to replenish her muscles with the protein they needed.

Only one place was set at the table and she wondered if Malfoy had already eaten or if perhaps he took breakfast in his own chambers. She had been surprised by his control the previous evening. Clearly he was deeply disturbed by the loss of his wife yet he had managed not to harm her in spite of her goading. She really did wonder what had become of Narcissa Malfoy…..and Draco. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of him. Perhaps Narcissa had been killed in the battle of Hogwarts but Draco at least had survived. Where was he? He had tried to help her, even if it had only been to furnish her with the means to her own demise. Perhaps she should have taken the chance when it had presented itself.

After breakfast she took herself back to her room and practiced her occlumency and meditation. She felt a tiny thrill when she remembered her encounter with Voldemort, how easily she had concealed her innermost thoughts from him. She wondered how she would fare if he were to attempt to penetrate her mind again.

Lunch was as solitary as breakfast and she began to think that imprisonment in the Manor proper was not particularly different from imprisonment in its dungeon except for the provision of more varied meals and washing facilities. Then she remembered that Malfoy had told her she could go wherever she wished in the house. She also remembered that Malfoy Manor was famed for its library. After several false starts she found the enormous room which spanned two floors with a spiral staircase against one wall to take her up the upper gantry. She turned a full circle staring around her with almost reverent appreciation. It was larger even than the library at Hogwarts and much more beautiful she thought, gently running a hand along a shelf of books and almost feeling the magic seeping into her.

She should begin researching at once, planning her escape and Voldemort's demise. But she was almost giddy in the presence of so many books, of so much knowledge, of endless opportunity. _Today I will just read._ She told herself selecting a book at random and beginning to read standing in front of the bookshelves, like an addict who cannot even wait to get home before their next fix.

Several hours later she sat cross legged on a table her back aching, her eyes burning yet unwilling to be torn away from the page when she realised she was no longer alone. Malfoy was standing in the doorway of the library watching her, rather like a cat watches a mouse. She wondered how long he had been stalking her.

"Good afternoon Miss Granger."

"Mr Malfoy." She nodded briefly at him, climbing rather stiffly off of the table. So that was how they would play it. As if nothing had been said the night before. Every day a clean slate. She filed the thought away.

"I see you found my library." He looked fondly around the room. "I had wondered if you would wish to go outside but perhaps you are too engrossed in your reading."

"No!" She stepped forward eagerly, "I mean, no I am not too engrossed, and yes I would very much like to go outside."

He smiled. Not a smirk, not a sneer but a real smile that crinkled his eyes and Hermione caught her breath. She quickly retreated inside her mind slamming several mental doors behind her. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy's own arsenal contained several weapons considerably more potent than threats and intimidation. She followed him wordlessly along the hallway to the front entrance where he flicked his cane and summoned two cloaks. Hermione eyed the cane she knew contained his wand with undisguised hunger. Her fingers twitched unconsciously. Despite the varying degrees of success she had had with wandless magic nothing could compare to the joy of using ones wand and using it well. She felt empty without hers, as if she were only half a person.

She was startled from her reverie by her sudden encasement in yards of soft warm fabric as Malfoy settled a cloak around her shoulders. She glanced down as his long fingers fastened the catch at her neck, she half expected a snake but instead she saw a tiny, golden lion. She looked up at his face, he was close to her, too close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body and she stepped back immediately. He smiled again but this time it did not reach his eyes and she shivered despite the warmth of her garment.

He paused in front of the heavy front door his cane raised. "You do realise Miss Granger that the grounds are warded as heavily as the house? You will not be able to leave them, running away will only exhaust you and irritate me."

"Mr Malfoy." She gave him a sideways look. "Why on earth would I want to run away?" The door opened and she stepped past him into the sunlight.

It was as if she had never been outside before. It was early autumn and the colours overwhelmed her. All around the trees shed their leaves in a myriad of yellow and gold, contrasting almost painfully with the green of the lawns. The sky was heartbreakingly blue, devoid of clouds and the sun almost scorched her still sensitive eyes. But it was not just the colour that overwhelmed her. It was the air itself, the fresh clean air. She gulped down enormous breaths, exhaling hard as if to drive the musty scent of the cellars from every corner of her lungs. Malfoy regarded her with patient amusement.

"You look like a bloodhound about to follow a scent." He remarked finally.

She didn't answer but when he offered her his arm she took it, falling into step beside him as they moved towards the trees at the end of the lawn.

"Do you not find touching me distasteful?" She asked after they had walked in silence for several minutes.

"Not particularly now you are clean." He responded, staring ahead at the trees.

"But I'm a mudblood."

"Yes." He glanced down at her, his brow slightly furrowed. "I find the concept of you more distressing than the reality."

She remained silent as she digested the thought.

"So what is it like Miss Granger?" His words startled her from her reverie.

"Touching you? It's like touching a normal person I suppose, except knowing all along that beneath a thinly shrouded veneer of civility they secretly want to kill you."

He snorted. "I meant spending ninety days in the dark."

"Oh." She elongated the syllables and then fell silent. _Tread carefully Hermione._ "It's like nothing you can ever possibly imagine." She chewed her lip. "Time passes so slowly yet you can feel your life slipping away, draining out of you. We surround ourselves with distractions but when they are all taken away you realise."

"Realise what?"

"That you're dying. That we're all dying and no matter what you or Voldemort or I do there's nothing that can stop it." She had stopped walking, staring sightlessly in front of her. "And you start to forget. Not just the people you loved but why you loved them. You forget everything." She looked up at him suddenly. "If you put my back in that dungeon I'll go mad. I might be mad already."

They stared at each other in silence for several moments.

"I do not think you are mad." He said the words slowly. "I believe you are very much changed though. You are nothing like the woman my son described."

It was Hermione's turn to snort with laughter. "No I suppose not, she was a child. Where is Draco anyway?" She looked around expectantly as if he might materialise from the well kept hedgerow. Malfoy's arm had grown very stiff beneath her own and she looked at him in surprise.

"He's dead."

Hermione's mouth dropped open with shock. She had forgotten she realised, forgotten to occlude, forgotten to protect herself, forgotten to lie but it was too late to take it back now.

"I'm so sorry."

He stared at her. "Now you are sorry?"

"Yes." She let go of his arm. The tension there was too much to bear, it was as if his pain was leeching out, seeping through his clothing and onto her skin. "He tried to help me you know."

"When?" Suddenly he had seized her upper arm, dragging her body up against his, her face tilted back so she could not evade his eyes.

"Three months ago, he was the last person I saw before I was left in the dark. Mr Malfoy you're hurting me."

"I don't care." He shook her. "What did he say to you?"

"I don't think you want to know." She closed her eyes against his stare only to feel his fingers around her neck, his grip choking her.

"Tell me."

"He said he was sorry," the grip slackened infinitesimally, just enough for her to breathe easier. "He told me Ron and Harry were dead, that Vol….the Dark Lord had won. He asked me to forgive him and he gave me a knife."

"A knife?"

"Yes, I think he meant for me to kill myself. He wanted me to have the choice."

"What did you do with it?"

"The knife?"

"Yes."

"I cut my hair, then I kept it. I was hoping to use it when somebody eventually remembered about me but I think one of your house elves found it. I woke up one morning a few weeks ago and it was gone."

He let go of her so abruptly that she almost fell. She backed away her fingers holding her bruised neck.

"What happened to him?" She asked softly.

Malfoy turned his back and she thought he wasn't going to answer. "He killed himself about three months ago."

"I'm…."

"Don't." His voice was harsh. "Please, just don't speak." He turned and set off back towards the house with such speed that Hermione almost had to trot to keep up with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Here's my next chapter. Thanks to all who reviewed especially those of you who have read and reviewed all my fics. Sorry to anybody I haven't replied to I still very much appreciate them.**

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She had not expected him to come to dinner. Personally she felt they both needed a little time away from each other. But it was his house and Malfoy was waiting in the dining room when she came in. She had changed out of her jeans, all the while deriding herself for such vanity. She derided herself further when she almost glowed under the approving glance he gave her. She again refused his offer of wine and they ate in silence.

Finally, when the meal was almost done she spoke.

"Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"I should like to run."

"Wouldn't we all Miss Granger?"

She stared at him, filing that particular comment away for further examination at a later date.

"I don't mean away, I mean I would like to run outside, for exercise."

"Ah." For several seconds no further answer was forthcoming and she wondered if the discussion were at an end.

"I will accompany you."

She stared at him. "Do you think you'll be able to keep up?"

He didn't respond but clicked his fingers to summon a house elf. He gave it several orders speaking in a low undertone, both of them looking at Hermione before it popped out of the room again.

They finished their food in silence and Hermione got to her feet. She wanted to practice her wandless magic before she went to sleep.

"Will you excuse me Mr Malfoy?"

"Of course. I run at six am Miss Granger, I will meet you at the front door. If you are late I will go without you."

"I won't be late. Goodnight Mr Malfoy."

"Good night Miss Granger."

In the end it was Hermione who struggled to keep up. It turned out that ninety days of star jumps were no match for years of regular running over rough terrain. She had been very surprised on returning to her room from dinner to find a shoe box on her bed. It contained a pair of trainers in her size and next to it was a pair of shorts, a running vest and a sports bra. She had blushed as she had donned her new clothing that morning. There was absolutely no way a house elf would have known about the female requirement for a sports bra.

The sight of Lucius Malfoy in black jogging trousers and a tight grey T-shirt also brought a hint of colour to her cheeks. His hair was tied back in a pony-tail and, like her, he wore muggle running shoes. She felt as if she were intruding in a deeply personal aspect of his life. It was like seeing him naked, perhaps worse in some ways. He did not seem to share her discomfort. In fact if she were not very much mistaken he rather enjoyed the view of her legs afforded by her running shorts. She pondered the duplicity of men as she followed him around the route he lead her on. How strange that he could hate her kind so vehemently, even going so far as to support an evil despot in trying to exterminate them but at the same time allow himself the pleasure of viewing her as a sexual object.

After their run she went back to her room and completed the rest of her exercise routine although her squats and lunges were seriously curtailed by her earlier exertions. Malfoy was not present at breakfast and she was glad to have a break from his company. Not because she found it unpleasant, quite the opposite and she feared it was his charm and her response to it which posed the most threat to her plans.

She retired to the library where she dearly longed to make a list. Lists had been her life blood at Hogwarts and during her year on the run. Nothing brought clarity like seeing ones thoughts committed to paper under one heading or another. There was plenty of parchment in one of the desks in the library but she didn't dare write upon it. She didn't trust Malfoy not to spy on her, or to have one of his portraits looking over her shoulder. She would have to make do with compiling her lists in her head.

She sat, cross-legged on one of the tables as she had done the day before and began to think. Her plan to kill Voldemort seemed like the dreams of a child. She was wandless, alone and trapped in Malfoy Manor. She quickly added those factors to the category marked obstacles. To the category marked assets she allocated physical strength and occlumency. At least she could plot safely without fear of discovery by Voldemort. In fact she feared Malfoy was much more likely to catch her with honey than Voldemort was by invading her mind. She added wandless magic to the list too although she was uncertain of her abilities, frankly she needed the encouragement. She was about to add Lucius Malfoy, her gaoler, to the obstacles column when she hesitated.

Lucius Malfoy was being punished. The Dark Lord was forcing him to marry a mudblood, the worst possible disgrace in Lucius' eyes. She wondered what his transgression had been. His loyalty must be without question or Voldemort would have killed him but surely he was not still being punished for what had happened at the department of mysteries all those years ago? She remembered his face when he had told her that Draco was dead and when she had said she wanted to run. " _Don't we all Miss Granger_." What had he meant by that?

She chewed her lip as she pondered. Lucius Malfoy was a man who had lost everyone dear to him in a very brief space of time. In that they were united. Death Eater or not he had to be vulnerable. Could she exploit that vulnerability to her own ends? She wasn't sure so settled for placing his name between the two columns.

Her list compiled she began to think on the task ahead of her. Only one horcrux remained, the snake Nagini. If Hermione wished to kill Voldemort then first she had to kill the snake and she had to do it without being caught otherwise there would be nobody to take out Voldemort. She compiled another list, this time of items which could be used to destroy a horcrux. Basilisk venom. She supposed there were still fangs left in the chamber of secrets, that would involve breaking into Hogwarts…..first she would have to escape Malfoy Manor, she made a footnote. The sword of Gryffindor. The last time she had seen it Neville had been wielding it against Nagini, shortly before he was struck down by the snake. Had a death eater picked up the sword or had the goblins taken it back? She needed to find out. Finally she added her final method, fiendfyre. Well that was out. She hadn't a wand and even if she had one she didn't think herself capable of controlling the volatile substance.

Her brain circled hopelessly around the problem, no solution seeming more feasible than another. Perhaps she should just submit to the charm of Lucius Malfoy and become Voldemort's puppet, it would be considerably easier than the alternative. She was so deep in thought that once more she failed to hear the library door open, or the sound of a person approaching until she looked up at the swish of robes moving across the wooden floor. She had expected to see Lucius and almost fell off the table upon which she sat when Voldemort entered the room.

She leapt to her feet, edging away from him whilst mentally she fled back into her safe room, slamming every door behind her.

"Miss Granger, I've interrupted your reading," he gestured to the books strewn open around her. "I apologise."

She didn't speak, eyeing the wand in his hand warily. His eyes followed hers.

"Ah, you're afraid of me of course, even the great Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age is afraid."

"That's what you want isn't it?" She asked in spite of herself.

"Of course." His red eyes bored into hers and he was in her mind before she could think to try and stop him. He was not gentle this time as he ripped through her thoughts and memories. She watched from her safe room for a while before she realised what he was looking for. Then she fed him. Malfoy bent over the table calling her mudblood, the moment when he had shaken her until teeth rattled, his hand at her throat, the image of her goading him into crucioing her rapidly followed by a reply of Bellatrix's own crucio. He watched every image with relish. It occurred to Hermione in that moment that she could hurt Lucius Malfoy more than he could ever hurt her. All she had to do was show Voldemort a few more choice images; Lucius carrying her up the stairs, buttoning her cloak, the look of desolation in his eyes when he had told her Draco was dead. Voldemort would consider each of those actions a weakness and a betrayal in their own right. But, before she even truly considered why she was doing it, she took those images and hid them in her safe room. Every scrap of humanity Lucius Malfoy had ever shown her was taken deep into her heart where Voldemort would never see it.

He was gone from her mind as quickly as he had entered.

"I'm pleased to see that Luciusss is treating you so well."

"Oh yes." Hermione heard herself sneer. "You must be so pleased to know that your lieutenant is torturing a nineteen year old girl, if only your entire army had behaved with such bravery you wouldn't have almost lost the war to a child."

Voldemort's red eyes flashed and she realised she had pushed him too far. He flicked his wand at her not even bothering to say the spell out loud. His version of crucio hurt a lot more than Bellatrix's.

She lay on the library floor for several hours after he left her. At first because she simply could not move and then because it was easier not to. Despite her threat against Malfoy she had not pissed herself and she was disproportionately pleased with this small victory. And it was only a small victory, the rest of her lay in tatters. Her muscles twitched weakly and her head ached. She was sure from the damp trickle against her neck that she was bleeding from one of her ears. But she had survived.

Of course she had survived. At the moment she was useful to Voldemort. The second she was no longer useful or she allowed her rudeness to exceed her utility she was under no illusions as to what the consequences would be. She found she cared little. It was hard to feel much attachment to her existence when regular bouts of torture appeared to feature heavily in her future. She wondered if she would now hate the library as she did the drawing room. She thought not. Her brain had been too detached from her body this time, she had watched the events transpire as a dispassionate observer rather than an invested party. Voldemort's crucio was different from that of Bellatrix. She wielded the spell with a white hot rage which burnt everything in its path. Voldemort's power was cold. There had been no hatred behind his curse, no anger even, the pain had simply existed and somehow it had been ten times more intense than when Bellatrix had thrown all of her hatred and anger at her. Hermione considered this for quite some time wondering if she would be able to control the curse with the same degree of precision as Voldemort. She dismissed the idea. She had no desire to torture. She wished to kill.

She wondered if Malfoy would come looking for her eventually. If he would carry her back to her room as he had done before. The man was a liability to himself. Did he not see how vulnerable his small acts of kindness towards her rendered him? Perhaps he thought to bring her to heel by having her fall in love with him. It was a clever plan and one she was sure might have succeeded if she were even still capable of the emotion. But it would not fulfill Voldemort's sadistic wish to see her broken. She considered this further. Perhaps given time, Malfoy might bind her to him emotionally to such an extent that she became his slave. Then, in rejecting her, he might achieve the same goal as he would have done using physical violence. The plan had merit but she did not think it possible to achieve during the month before their wedding. In which case what was he doing? Hermione strongly suspected he had no idea. That he was merely existing from one day to another, waiting for the sword to fall unable, despite his hatred of her blood status, to treat her as Voldemort required. She almost smiled. How amusing that her enemy should be undone by the pureblood manners he held so dear.

Eventually it grew dark and her bladder grew full. She carefully clambered to her feet stretching her sore limbs and trying not to aggravate her still fasiculating muscles. She slowly climbed the staircase to her room where she ran herself a hot bath before collapsing into bed.

Malfoy was not there when she went downstairs for their run the following morning. She huffed with irritation. Admittedly she was still sore but she thought a workout might help to dispel some of the stiffness. She wondered if he were angry at her for not attending dinner the previous evening. He didn't come to breakfast or lunch either. Hermione had returned to her room and completed her usual prison workout before heading to the library which was fast becoming her domain. She had found several books that mentioned horcruxes and she was poring over them as inconspicuously as possible. Unfortunately she had made little progress in the identification of further ways of destroying them. She was seriously considering a room to room search of the Manor the next time Malfoy was absent. There were so many obviously magical artifacts strewn around, surely one of them would be imbued with the magical power required to destroy a horcrux.

She became so engrossed in her reading that she didn't notice the time and almost missed dinner. Deciding that there was little point in changing her clothes in order to sit on her own in the cavernous dining room she ran downstairs still dressed in her jeans and stopped in surprise to see Malfoy already seated at the table.

"Miss Granger." He stood when she entered, one hand holding onto the table for support. He looked terrible she thought as she slipped into her own seat her eyes fixed on him. He was unshaven for the first time ever, his jaw covered in fine blond stubble. His hair was lank and his eyes rimmed with red. As he reached out to pour the wine she noticed his hand trembling.

"I'm sorry I'm late." He neither castigated her, nor dignified her apology with a response, simply waiting for their food to arrive before taking up his cutlery with some difficulty when it did.

"I would appreciate it if you would not purposefully aggravate the Dark Lord Miss Granger, the consequences of your actions impact further than you might think."

She looked up at him in surprise, wondering how he knew what had happened the day before. Then it all made sense and she felt foolish for having not put the pieces together either.

"He _crucioed_ you too." It was a statement not a question.

Malfoy's eyes flicked across her body. "He informed me that you were still insufferably strong willed and that I had not made sufficient effort to subdue you. I did not realise he had used the cruciatus curse on you also, you look remarkably well."

"I perhaps look better than I feel." _Which is more than I can say for you._

"Bella tortured you before in my drawing room."

"I remember."

He looked hard at her. "You did not endure it so quietly then."

"I'm older now."

"Miss Granger if age were a defense against the cruciatus curse do you not think that I would be practically immune?"

She half smiled. "Perhaps."

"You are able to bear the pain with remarkable fortitude now."

"I am."

He looked at her again his grey eyes almost hopeful. "You could tell me how you do it."

She met his eyes. "I could."

She allowed the silence to sit between them for several minutes before he looked away.

"I see." He said softly. "Very well, I must bid you goodnight Miss Granger, I do not have much of an appetite." He stood with some difficulty and made his way from the room. It was the first time she had ever seen him use his cane as more than an affect.

She finished her meal in thoughtful silence. There was no reason for her to feel guilty. Lucius Malfoy was just as much her enemy as Voldemort or Bellatrix, he just happened to come in more urbane packaging. Why should she care if he endured torture? She didn't care. She absolutely did not care.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thank you so much for all the reviews. Some of you have left really thoughtful ones which I love getting even though they totally make me question the direction of the story! I'm quite nervous about posting this next chapter, this was always the way I saw things going initially but I hope the romantics amongst you won't be too upset by it and the hardcore dark story lovers don't think I'm too soft!**

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She went downstairs the following morning without much hope of seeing Malfoy and was surprised to find him waiting at the front door dressed in his running clothes.

"Have you recovered?" She asked quietly, waiting for him to open the door. He didn't answer, merely inclined his head and gestured for her to precede him outside. He took off at his usual pace and Hermione followed a few steps behind.

Despite her circumstances she was struck by the beauty of the autumn morning. There was a very light frost which would disappear as soon as the sun rose but for now tinted the lawns with silver. As they passed into the woodland she almost gasped at the delicate sculptures formed by the dew tinged spider webs. She wondered what it had been like for Draco growing up here. Somehow she knew that, spoiled as he had been, he had not taken it completely for granted. Seeing the beauty of his home she had a better understanding of his arrogance. As the custodian of such a substantial heritage how could he not have grown up thinking himself superior to others?

As her eyes hungrily took in the pleasing aesthetics of her surroundings her constantly active brain recognised a particular plant. She acted without thinking. Pausing for a moment and bending down to fiddle with her shoe lace she quickly picked a few of the foxglove leaves and tucked them into her sock.

Malfoy did not even appear to notice that she had lagged behind and she was forced to sprint for several metres in order to catch up with him. In truth she didn't want to get too close, she was not sure how to deal with him. All pervading guilt at perpetuating the suffering of another human being battled with her own need for self preservation. It was not that she wished him to suffer, if she could have spared him the pain of the cruciatus curse she would have. Be that as it may she could not reveal her methods to him because to do so would inadvertently reveal her abilities. Even if she trusted him not to betray her secrets to Voldemort there was nothing to prevent the Dark Lord from simply scooping them off the surface of Malfoy's mind.

She stumbled suddenly and almost fell. _What did you just think?_ She asked herself incredulously. But the words had been thought and no matter how hard she tried to pack them back down they existed in her brain. She trusted Lucius Malfoy. That was impossible. She watched the swing of his ponytail in front of her. It was absurd. It was suicidal. He was Lord Voldemort's most valued henchman. _Not any more_ a little voice whispered _or he wouldn't be being punished._ But surely if he were being punished he would do anything to get back into Voldemort's graces. If that were the case then why hadn't he beaten her, crucioed her, raped her? Why had he treated her like a respected if not entirely welcome guest in his home?

"Mr Malfoy." She put on a turn of speed and drew level with him. His face was pale and she realised how hard he was working to maintain his punishing pace. "Mr Malfoy," she panted again, "please slow down, I need to ask you something." He slowed to a brisk walk his chest rising and falling heavily, his eyes slightly relieved.

"You ask entirely too many questions Miss Granger."

"Why haven't you hurt me?"

He ignored the question and began to run again, she chased after him managing to pant breathlessly. "I don't understand why. I'm a mudblood, I'm nothing to you, less than nothing and if you don't hurt me he's going to hurt you, why haven't you done it?"

"Because I don't want to." He finally spat his grey eyes flashing angrily at her as he continued his pace. "I joined the Dark Lord for power and purity not for violence and torture." He panted the words out as he ran. "I'm not Bellatrix, I never had any interest in any extracurricular activities." He stopped running and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. "You are a tool, nothing more, a weapon he is wielding against me. Either I beat you half to death and bend you to his will or I leave you be and suffer his wrath. Regardless I lose."

"Surely if you do as he asks you will be back in favour again."

"Possibly." He looked up at her once more. "But what will I be then? No better than that rabid bitch who calls herself my sister in law. I have little enough self respect left, if I give in on this too then I might as well be as dead as the rest of my family." He drew in several deep breaths before he spoke again. "Besides." He straightened up and regarded her steadily. "I'm not sure I or anyone else is capable of breaking you Miss Granger."

"Everyone has their breaking point."

He turned and began to run again, she following behind. He hadn't denied her statement and she wondered if that was tantamount to an acknowledgment that it was he and not she who was close the limit of his endurance.

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The days passed quietly enough. Hermione read her books, practised her occlumency and her wandless magic and fretted over the problem of how to destroy horcruxes. Malfoy brooded as far as she could see although he was polite enough during their runs and when they encountered each other during meal times. By the end of the week he had begun to look better. The tremors were gone from his hands and his eyes were no longer so red. He had cut back on the amount of wine he consumed and generally appeared recovered from his most recent bout of torture.

Hermione surmised that the Dark Lord must be busy with some other scheme as Malfoy hadn't been summoned for some time. But when he failed to meet her for their run one morning and then missed breakfast and lunch she began to fear for his safety. He did not appear for dinner either and Hermione ate alone before taking a bath and readying herself for bed. Once beneath her sheets though she was unable to sleep. What if he had been injured? Was he even in the Manor? Why did she even care?

She pushed the final thought away as she slipped out of bed and pulled on a silk dressing gown over her nightie. Barefoot she crept from her bedroom and began to make her way along the corridor. She had suspected for some time which room belonged to Malfoy although she had never given it much conscious thought. She had seen him emerging from this direction some mornings and she had seen a large bay window on the east gable of the house which would give a very pleasant outlook to the master bedroom. Reaching the door she thought was his she hesitated.

What was she doing? Even if he was suffering inside she was most probably the last person he would wish to see. She ignored this thought and placed her fingers on the door handle. She had expected it to be locked, to be turned back immediately from her task, able to return to her bed with a clear conscience. Instead it turned easily beneath her fingers and the door began to swing open. It was too late for her to go back now. She stepped into the room.

The bay window did indeed provide an impressive outlook for the master bedroom although it was almost dark outside and Hermione could see little of the view. What she could see was an enormous four poster bed and, in the centre of it, propped against the headboard was a very angry Lucius Malfoy.

"Miss Granger." His voice was glacial. "Please tell me what it is that has driven you to breach one of the few rules I have imposed upon you?"

Hermione stepped into the room pushing the door closed behind her. "I was worried about you." She said softly approaching the bed despite the murderous look he gave her. She could see now that the worry was justified. He looked even worse than he had before his body wracked with involuntary spasms. He closed her eyes against her scrutiny.

"As you can see Miss Granger I am...alive and not in need of your tender ministrations."

She ignored him and came closer still, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He drew away despite the fact that she was still at least two feet from him.

"What were you punished for this time?"

He closed his eyes briefly. "The Dark Lord is angry that I have not 'consummated' our relationship."

"But we're not married yet!"

Malfoy gave a low chuckle. "I don't think the Dark Lord is particularly concerned about maintaining your virtue for our wedding night, he wishes to subjugate both you and I as quickly as possible."

Hermione looked at the man before her. If he died or became too incapacitated to contain her then she would be given to someone else. Voldemort's plan of a political marriage held merit, Malfoy was the best choice of consort but any death eater would do she supposed. She bit her lip for a moment and eyed the broken man in the bed before her. She needed him, needed him to get her close to Voldemort and Nagini, needed him to keep her alive, to let her use his library. She needed him to make a mistake which would allow her access to a wand. More than that, she preferred him. The sight of Fenrir Greyback bent over Lavender Brown's bleeding body still gave her nightmares. She considered most of the other death eaters little more than thugs. Would any of them treat her as well as Malfoy? She doubted it.

She looked carefully at him, pursing her lips. "Just how disgusting do you find me Mr Malfoy?"

He frowned. "I find you irritating in the extreme but I am not disgusted by you."

"So it's not my blood status which prevents you from….." She tailed off delicately.

"Violently taking advantage of a girl less than half my age? No Miss Granger, it is common decency which prevents that."

She took a deep breath, considering his words and what she was about to offer him.

"You can fuck me if you want, I don't particularly care." She was deliberately crude.

His red rimmed eyes widened and he repositioned himself against the pillows.

"And why Miss Granger would you allow me to do that?"

Of course, a Slytherin would need an answer, not just accept her offer as his obvious path to salvation. She couldn't trust him with her true reasons though. Instead she shrugged.

"It's not a big deal to me Mr Malfoy, I imagine it will be less unpleasant than the cruciatus curse. I will allow it in exchange for information."

He winced at the implied insult and then frowned. "What information?"

She lent a little closer. "What can you tell me about fiendfyre?"

"Fiendfyre?" He frowned again, "Why would you wish to learn about that?"

She met his gaze with her own. "Let's just call it my unquenchable thirst for knowledge."

Their eyes locked and held, he was the first to look away.

"Very well." He agreed.

"Good." Hermione stood up, "We can discuss our terms further when you have recovered." She walked towards the doorway. "Tell me something Mr Malfoy, are you a gifted occlumens?" His lip twitched but she wasn't sure if it was just the lingering effects of the cruciatus or a curtailed expression.

"No Miss Granger, It is one of the few disciplines of magic at which I do not excel."

She turned away once more.

"What about you Miss Granger?"

"What about me?"

"Are you a good occlumens?"

"I've never been taught." She answered before slipping out of the door.

She walked back to her own room pondering Malfoy's revalation: he couldn't occlude. She had suspected as much. In his previous service to Voldemort it hadn't mattered because his loyalty to his master had been unwavering. Now though he was trapped, driven to walk the fine line between what he found morally acceptable and what Voldemort demanded. Now, he did not dare even think the truth. Lucius Malfoy could not lie to the Dark Lord so he lied to himself instead.

Malfoy reappeared two days later and he and Hermione resumed their morning runs as if nothing had happened. Neither of them mentioned Hermione's offer at first but she suspected that it was never far from either of their thoughts. She had caught Malfoy looking assessingly at her when he thought her attention elsewhere.

For her part Hermione had become fixated on fiendfyre as her most likely option in killing Nagini. She had no idea how to locate the sword of Gryffindor and little chance of retrieving any basilisk fangs from the Chamber of Secrets. Fiendfyre was, at least something that theoretically she could create although how she might do it when she remained without a wand and did not know the incantation she wasn't sure. It had also not escaped her notice that she had not actually set eyes on the snake since she had been released from the dungeon. She thought though that her wedding to Malfoy would be an event of such magnitude that the snake may well be in attendance. Thus she had to have some sort of plan in place before then.

Her wandless magic was improving. She could cast and control a number of small spells but she did not delude herself in thinking that she would be able to control something as volatile as fiendfyre without a wand through which to chanel her magic. She had searched the manor as carefully as possible without her intentions becoming obvious. Malfoy was extremely careful with his own wand and she hadn't found a cache of them in any of the rooms she had examined so far. She was sitting in her habitual position, cross legged on a table in the library perusing a book on the history of wandless magic when Malfoy found her. He leaned in the doorway examining her wordlessly for several minutes as was his wont.

"Miss Granger." He crossed the floor towards her and took the book from her hands, examining the title with some interest. "Have you had much success?" He indicated towards the book with his free hand.

Hermione shook her head. "My proficiency in magic came from study and control, not from raw power."

Malfoy gave a half smile as he replaced the book on the shelf. He had recovered again she realised, his skin was once more unblemished, his hair flawless, his elaborate robes swirling around his taut body.

"Of course you could be as skilled in wandless magic as the late Albus Dumbledore and you would endeavour to convince me otherwise."

Hermione gave him a level look. "If I were as skilled in wandless magic as Professor Dumbledore then you would already be dead."

He blinked. "Your candour is, as always, appreciated Miss Granger." He came to stand against the table upon which she sat, leaning his hips against it and staring towards a faraway bookcase. "The Dark Lord will summon me again soon. I must ask if you are still willing to enact the bargain you offered previously."

She almost smiled at his circumspect manner.

"Sex in exchange for information I believe it was Mr Malfoy?"

"I believe so." He still did not look at her.

"I am willing to offer you the same terms."

He released a slow breath. "Good."

She shuffled forward, unfolding her legs so they hung down over the edge of the table and turned towards him. "I feel in the interest of full disclosure I should inform you that that I am a virgin."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, still not looking at her. "Of course you are." He muttered under his breath. Hermione felt almost offended. She had never felt that her unwillingness to engage in meaningless sex was something to apologise for before now. She gave a mental shrug, it was Malfoy's problem not hers she reassured herself.

Malfoy turned to face her, placing his hands on either side of her hips, his face close to hers. "I suppose we should get on with it then." He sounded as willing as a man being lead to the gallows. Hermione pressed a restraining hand to his shoulder then just as quickly withdrew it. His body was firm and warm beneath her hand. The touch felt too intimate.

"I'm afraid Mr Malfoy that I will have to insist that you fulfil your end of the bargain first."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because you can take want you want by force. I have no such means of extracting information from you."

He dropped his hands. "You think so little of me?"

Hermione folded her arms. "We are not friends Mr Malfoy. "Now, I believe you are going to tell me all you know about fiendfyre."

Malfoy looked at her for a moment. His eyes were steely but she saw no anger there. For a second, just a second she thought she had seen a flicker of hurt. _Careful,_ she reminded herself, _he is just as capable of playing you as you are him._ He turned away from her once more and began to pace thoughtfully. "Fiendfyre is an enchanted fire and to some extent it is similar to the fire we create using the _incendio_ incantation. However fiendfyre varies from its counterparts in the source of the fire. A normal incendio," He demonstrated by pointing his ward at the fire laid in the grate of the large hearth at the other end of the library, it immediately began to smoke at his non-verbal spell. "summons heat from the sun. When we cast fiendfyre we summon the flames from the pits of hell." His grey eyes turned to Hermione's. "The flames of fiendfyre are sentient, they have a desire to consume, to destroy everything in their path. Even the most powerful of wizards will find that hard to control. Fiendfyre is…." He hesitated searching for the right word "…..seductive." He finally finished.

"Can you cast it?" Hermione asked, leaning forwards on the desk everything forgotten but her thirst for knowledge.

"Of course, but I won't. I am too fond of my ancestral home to risk burning it down merely to satisfy your curiosity."

"Outside then." Hermione jumped down from the table and crossed the floor towards him, her hands unconsciously clasped in front of her. "You could cast it on the lake in the grounds."

Malfoy regarded her coolly, "Very well." He finally agreed.

He strode out of the library and down the stairs with Hermione trotting in his wake. He paused in the hallway to summon their cloaks, allowing Hermione to put on the garment herself this time as he marched across the ornate lawns to where the lake shimmered in the afternoon sun.

"Mr Malfoy?" He slowed to allow her to catch up with him. "Are you afraid?"

His lips twitched upwards briefly. "Only a fool would not be afraid of fiendfyre Miss Granger." She walked beside him in silence the remainder of the way to the lake. When they reached the shore he undid the fastening of his cape and allowed it to fall to the ground. She was surprised when his formal robes went the same way leaving him standing only in his trousers and white shirt. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt revealing muscular forearms covered in fine blond hair. Hermione's eyes lingered on his exposed flesh before her gaze flickered across the dark mark. She wrenched her eyes away only to find Malfoy regarding her curiously, that half smile playing over his lips once more. Finally he reached up and secured his hair at the nape of his neck.

He withdrew his wand from his cane and raised it to chest height. "You should stand back."

For once she obeyed him without question. Her gaze fixed on his wand, unwilling to miss the movements of the spell. "The incantation is the same." He told her, staring out across the water. "It is the intent which differs. Most people do not truly wish to summon flames from the depths of hell and are therefore unable to cast the spell." He turned away from her and with a look of intense concentration murmured " _Incendio"._

Greenish red flames immediately spewed out from the tip of his wand to settle on the surface of the lake causing the water to instantly boil and steam. Within the flames Hermione could see shapes of fearsome animals. She made out the head of a dragon and possibly that of a basilisk and shuddered as she felt the evil roiling off the enchanted flames. Malfoy flicked his wand and whip like jets of fire issued forth to mingle with the mass already burning on the surface of the water. The fire seemed to expand, almost covering the lake and coming closer and closer to where Hermione stood on its shore. She looked at Malfoy, beginning to feel a flicker of fear, the heat was intense, almost singeing her eyebrows. Beads of sweat were forming at Malfoy's temples and running down his cheeks but his face remained calm. Finally he glanced at Hermione.

"Have you seen enough Miss Granger?" His eyes glowed briefly red and she shuddered.

"Yes."

He flicked his wand sharply downwards and as quickly as they had appeared the flames were extinguished although the surface of the lake continued to boil for several seconds after they had gone. Hermione stood motionless staring at Malfoy. He turned away from the lake and replaced his wand within the snake topped cane, bending to pick up his robes.

"Well Miss Granger, are you suitably impressed?" She nodded, her mouth dry. Fear coiled in her belly. Lucius Malfoy may be a man on the edge of breaking but his power as a wizard was in no way diminished. She had seen the effort it had taken him to control the enchanted flames. How was she ever to replicate that, and without a wand? Malfoy had returned himself to order loosening the tie in his hair to free it once more.

"I believe then that my part of our bargain has been fulfilled." He looked down expectantly at her. Hermione nodded again.  
"Here?" she asked, looking dubiously at the rather damp looking ground. Malfoy actually chuckled.

"I believe I can wait until we have returned to the house." He offered her his arm and after a moment's hesitation she took it. After all he was going to be touching a lot more of her soon, there seemed little point in resisting him now.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Thank you all so much for the lovely confidence boosting reviews. I wasn't going to update until tomorrow but this chapter was ready and I knew I was just going to tweak it to death if I didn't just get on and post it.**

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She had half expected him to pounce on her as soon as they entered the house so was surprised and relieved when he excused himself in the hallway.

"The fiendfyre leaves one feeling a little _unclean,_ I will see you at dinner Miss Granger."

Like any young woman Hermione had given a great deal of thought into how, where and with whom she might lose her virginity. For a long time she had thought it would be with Ron and to be honest the how and where were not particularly important to her. Once she had been captured the how had become much more important. She had spent part of every day fearing that she would be taken advantage of by one or more death eaters. If someone had told her a year ago that she would be willing to bargain away her virginity to Lucius Malfoy for an (admittedly) impressive display of fiendfyre she would have been surprised to say the least. Now she felt nothing more than mild curiosity.

She knew that her skill as an occlumens would allow her to distance herself both emotionally and physically from what was to transpire between them. Malfoy could do as he would with her body and she would feel little. She didn't think he would damage her irrevocably. If anything she feared that he was incapable of taking her with the force needed to convince Voldemort that he truly was adhering to his Machiavellian plan. She found her main feeling to be of slight embarrassment. Lucius Malfoy was a handsome man, descended from a long bloodline of physical perfection. His wife, Narcissa had been beautiful and Hermione felt her own inadequacy painfully. It shouldn't matter to her whether he found her attractive or not but no young woman wishes to be judged and found wanting.

She did not reveal any of her fears to Malfoy as they ate their dinner in silence. After all he was not her lover, not her boyfriend, not even her friend as she had pointed out earlier. She could scarcely expect to confide her fears in him. When they had finished eating he stood and excused himself once more.

"I will come to you later Miss Granger if that will be acceptable to you?"

She had nodded wordlessly and remained at the table while he left, fiddling with her cutlery and trying not to think about what was about to happen.

She made her way upstairs and elected to take a bath before bed. Her bathroom door did in fact have a lock and she seriously considered barricading herself in there for the rest of the evening. At the same time she knew that it was unnecessary. Despite having already fulfilled his part of their deal she knew Lucius Malfoy would no more force himself on her than she on him. He was not capable of it, and it was for this very reason that she would make herself submit because Lucius Malfoy was an infinitely better prospect than any of Voldemort's other henchmen.

After she had dried herself she hesitated, uncertain whether to slip on a nightgown, dress fully or simply climb into bed naked. Eventually she decided that the fewer impediments there were to their coupling the better. So she slipped beneath the sheets pulling them up under her chin and nervously eyeing the doorway. She had already retreated so far into her own mind by the time the handle of her door turned that she barely responded to Malfoy's incursion into her room. She observed dispassionately that he must also have washed, his hair was still damp on his shoulders and he was now dressed only in a heavy black dressing gown. She was reminded rather of the period dramas her mother used to watch where the gentleman of the house would visit his wife in her chambers and the camera would artfully fade out to the closed door. There would be no artful fading now save what she was capable of mentally.

"Miss Granger." His voice was slightly less steady than usual and she felt relief that he appeared equally as nervous as she. "Are you still willing to honour our pact?"

She sat up in bed, making sure that the sheet was pulled up to her chin. "I am." Her voice was steady. He removed a crystal bottle from the pocket of his dressing gown and proffered it to her.

"What's that?"

"It's a contraceptive potion, unless you wish to be impregnated as well as stripped of your virtue I suggest you drink it."

"Thank you." She hadn't even considered the possibility of falling pregnant, what sort of a fool was she? She upended the bottle and downed the contents in one gulp wincing at the bitter aftertaste.

Malfoy began to untie the sash of his dressing gown and Hermione retreated fully into her safe room, slamming the heavy door behind her and turning the locking mechanism. She watched dispassionately now as he carefully placed the garment on a chair. He turned to face her and she studied his cock. Already hard it jutted from the nest of blond curls at the apex of his thighs. It was large, very large and she wondered exactly how it was going to fit inside her. She wondered too at his arousal, he had seemed unwilling to force himself on her and she had assumed that he did not desire her, his erection suggested otherwise.

He came to stand beside the bed and gently peeled the sheet away from her leaving her naked body exposed. The room was warm but nonetheless she felt her skin form goose bumps and her nipples harden at the rush of cooler air. She made no move to cover herself, she felt no embarrassment, no shame, she felt nothing but the mildest of curiosity. She looked up expectantly at Malfoy who seemed momentarily frozen at the beside. Their eyes met and he gave a soft sigh. She could see him steel himself as he lent forward over the bed but she felt no pity. Of course this was distasteful to him, to touch her, a mudblood. Their union would violate him as much as it did her and he did not have the option of hiding as she did.

She felt his weight depress the bed as he lay next to her, causing her body to roll slightly towards his. She had closed her eyes but opened them again when she felt his lips press against hers. He was gentle, surprisingly, beguilingly gentle. It was his gentleness which coaxed her from her safe room, almost to the edge of her library where she watched him move his lips against hers, one of his large hands stroking its way into her hair, down her neck and across her ribcage. She could feel her body responding to his touch. Tiny nerve endings stimulated by his stroking and delicious tinglings skittering across her overheated skin to pool in her groin. She felt her body asking her permission to respond, to arch against him, to part her lips, to moan into his mouth. She denied it, drawing back within her fortress once more.

He continued undeterred, the same large warm hand caressing first one breast then the other, their nipples pebbling under his touch, her belly flickering at the stroke of his fingers across its soft curves. These responses she could not control. Nor could she prevent the growing wetness between her thighs which his questing fingers quickly found. He gave a soft grunt of satisfaction and she felt him begin to circle her clitoris, his intentions quite clear. Within the privacy of her mind Hermione flinched. _This_ had not been part of the plan. She had expected a swift and painful deflowering. Unpleasant and awkward for both of them. At worst she had thought he might gloat in his domination of her, whisper obscenities into her ear as he forced himself into her. She had not expected him to attempt to ensure her pleasure before taking his own.

The limitations of her occlumency became painfully obvious. Whilst she had retreated into herself she had almost no control over the responses of her body. Freed of the inhibitions of her mind, which was frantically telling her that she hated this man, her treacherous body was having a field day. She could already feel the intense waves of pleasure arrowing up from her clitoris to her belly, the tiny contractions in her womb and thighs warning her that she was perilously close to orgasm. She could stop him. This had not been part of their agreement and all she had to do was rejoin her body and push his hand away but that would be tantamount to admitting to him that he affected her. Furthermore it would leave her present, in the moment, having sex with Lucius Malfoy. Surely it was better to hide inside herself and let nature take its course. If she could endure Voldemort's cruciatus surely she could endure this?

The sensation intensified and she could feel her body pleading for release. More horrifyingly she longed to leave her safe room, to join her spirit and her body once more and fully experience the pleasure he was offering. Curled in the very furthest corner of her safe room she buried her face against her knees and waited for it to be over. He had eased two fingers into her once more, his thumb continuing to gently circle her clitoris, finally he lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth and just like that she was overcome. Her orgasm overwhelmed her and the pleasure shot through her, her back arching and her womb clenching uncontrollably.

She felt Malfoy smile against her breast and then he was _there._ The head of his cock pressed against her opening and he was driving into her with surprising force considering how gentle his initial exploration had been. Curiosity drove Hermione to open her eyes. His face was just above hers, his teeth gritted in a grimace which looked more of pain than pleasure. His hair hung down to curtain them together in a parody of intimacy. He was fully inside her now and had paused to look down at her. Hermione was surprised it hadn't hurt more. Her body was still clenching gently with the aftershocks of her orgasm and although there had been a pinching pain as he had forced his way into her it had almost entirely abated now.

Malfoy gave a long groan and then almost reluctantly began to move inside her. Hermione's body immediately informed her that this was also a pleasurable activity and once more she felt the urge to move against him, to leave her safe room and throw herself into the experience. She resisted and turned her face to the side her eyes taking in the dark mark etched onto his forearm just in front of her eyes.

He began to become even harder and thicker inside her, his strokes becoming more erratic and his breathing harsher. He caught her face in his hand and turned it so she was forced to meet his eyes.

"You like that don't you?" His voice was harsh, his gaze intent. "You like feeling me inside you, I can feel how wet you are." She didn't respond staring blankly up at him from beyond her occlumency shields. His eyes fell closed and when he spoke again his voice was almost anguished. "For fucks sake Hermione, please just give me something."

She could easily have given in to him. She could have left her own fortress and joined him there in the experience. Her body was aflame with pleasure, pain long forgotten and another orgasm easily within reach. It would have taken so little for her to put her arms around him, dig her nails into his back and shoulders, run her fingers through his silky hair, to move her hips against his and contract her sex around his cock. But she did none of these things. She remained motionless beneath him because for too long she had had so few choices and at least this she could still control.

He thrust into her a few more times before he came, his face buried in the curve of her neck. His cock jerking inside her. He allowed his weight to fall briefly upon her, his body limp for a few seconds before he pulled himself away leaving her bereft and cold. He kept his face turned from her and obscured by his hair as he climbed off the bed. She noticed a smear of blood on his thighs before he pulled on his dressing gown and left the room without another word.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Thank you again for all your reviews. I know a few of you were a bit disappointed with the...er...encounter in the last chapter. All I ask is that you give our heroine some time...**

 **So here's chapter six...in which things get a bit weird!**

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She hadn't expected to fall asleep. If she had given it any consideration she would imagined she would lie awake wracked with sorrow to have lost her virginity to a death eater. Perhaps she might have felt some conflict if she allowed herself to admit that she did not hate Lucius Malfoy nearly as much as she ought to. None of these thoughts even crossed her mind. She simply lost consciousness and awoke the following morning as a weak ray of sunshine penetrated the poorly drawn curtains and fell on her face. Sitting up and glancing around she realised it was much too late for their morning run, and probably too late for breakfast also. She wondered if Malfoy had waited for her in either of these activities. She suspected not. She was not entirely able to forget the expression on his face as he had begged her to give him something and she feared that her actions of the previous night might have irreparably damaged the fragile truce between them.

Sitting up, she cautiously stretched feeling a dull ache between her legs and a slight stiffness in her back. Otherwise she appeared intact both emotionally and physically. She was about to climb out of bed when she noticed a book on her night stand. Of course she _was_ Hermione Granger. Despite having fallen captive to and recently being deflowered by a death eater she retained most of her old personality traits and therefore a book on her night stand was not an unusual occurrence. She had long established that Malfoy didn't seem to care if she liberated books from the library or not so there were always a few tomes stacked there. But this particular volume was one she had not seen before.

She reached for it and as soon as her fingers made contact with the leather spine she felt a whisper of magic extend up her arm. This was a powerful book. She smoothed a hand over the cover on which was embossed in gold a frolicking dragon and a single word 'Dragonlore'. She frowned. Malfoy must have brought her the book while she slept. Despite the intimacy they had shared the previous night she did not at all like the idea that he had come into her room when she was asleep and vulnerable. She scoffed at herself. What could he have done to her while she was sleeping that he could not also do while she was awake? But why leave her a book about dragons? She didn't dislike the creatures but she had no particular interest in them.

Curiosity getting the better of her, as always, she opened the book and ran her fingers down the table of contents pausing at a familiar word. 'Fiendfyre and other curses'. Eagerly she flipped through the pages.

"Certain curses are more easily cast by those who possess an intrinsic affinity for dragons. Fiendfye is a prime example of such a curse although the enchanted flames are still extremely dangerous, even when cast using a wand with a dragon heartstring core. "

Hermione felt a sharp pang. Her own wand had possessed such a core and she felt its loss keenly. Almost as one who suffers following an amputation sometimes she still felt its weight in her hand, her fingers curling around the handle which was not there and her lips forming the words of spells she could not cast. As she read on through the book though she realised that her easy affinity with fire had all along been, at least in part, due to the core of her wand.

She turned the pages eagerly, stopping to consider another passage.

"The casting of fiendfyre and other fire related spells can be achieved with greater ease and control when the caster has in their possession a dragon related artefact. In the 14th century mages in Outer Mongolia were known to wear necklaces of dragons' teeth which were credited with allowing them their famed control over fiendfyre."

She paused at this and sighed again. Her searches of the manor had not come across any dragon artefacts either, although she hadn't particularly been looking for them.

She spent several hours in bed reading the fascinating book. She fancied she could feel the magic seeping into her from it. Eventually though her stomach gave a loud grumble and she realised she risked missing lunch as well as breakfast. She climbed, naked from the bed and was horrified as a trickle of ejaculate and blood ran down her inner thigh. She winced as she walked quickly to the bathroom realising there were more smears of blood and dried white material or her thighs and matted in her pubic hair. Sex was, she decided as she ran a bath, a messy business.

To her relief, although not really her surprise, Malfoy was absent from the table when she went down for lunch. She wondered how Voldemort would react if he realised that his minion, far from breaking her, had in fact been driven both from his own dining room but also from his library merely by her presence. Once more she felt a wave of concern for Malfoy. Their sham of wedding was still over two weeks away but she feared that he would not be given even that long to subdue her. Perhaps Voldemort had never meant Malfoy to succeed and was only toying with them both before killing Malfoy and giving her to one of his other supporters. The thought of being left at the mercy of Fenrir Greyback sent a shiver of dread along her spine and she strengthened her resolve to help Malfoy as much as she could. Perhaps she should go and pick a fight with him, goad him into hitting her. The thought would not leave her brain. She had given herself to Malfoy willingly, therefore the experience had not really been unpleasant, he had left her body unmarked externally at least. Would anyone really believe that he had raped her?

She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. She wondered how Voldemort would confirm what had happened between them. He might simply look into Lucius' mind in which case it was anyone's guess whether he would be satisfied with what he saw. From what she knew of the death eater rituals though Hermione thought he would wish to make more of a spectacle of both of them. Surely he would wish to bear witness to her ordeal himself. She braced herself to expect a summons in the near future, would she be able to deceive Voldemort into believing that Lucius had taken her by force?

She toyed with her food a little longer before rising and making her way back to the upstairs corridor. She tiptoed towards Malfoy's room, pressing her ear against the door. She heard nothing. He didn't seem the type to lounge in bed half the day. He was most likely in his study at the other end of the house. Hesitantly, ready to flee if necessary she tried the handle. The door was locked. He must be elsewhere then.

She rested her forehead against the smooth wood and placed her palm flat over the lock. Carefully she centred herself, channelling all of her magic into that palm she breathed the spell against the wood ' _alohomora.'_ The sound of the lock clicking open reverberated along the empty corridor and she jumped nervously before sagging against the doorframe. How could such a simple act have exhausted her so thoroughly?

She eased open the door and looked around. The room was empty, the bed neatly made. She closed the door behind her and made for the large chest of drawers in one corner. A strange wave of guilt engulfed her as she began to open the drawers, methodically searching. In his own way Lucius Malfoy had been nothing but courteous to her, she had been treated as a guest in his home and here she was repaying him by quite literally raking through his underwear, although she did close that drawer very quickly when she realised what it contained.

Finally, in the bottom drawer her hands closed over the object she sought. A heavy black leather belt with the Malfoy family crest emblazoned in silver upon the buckle. She swiftly shut the drawer and tiptoed back to her own room, shaking with adrenaline. She placed the chair under the door handle and slipped the belt out of sight amongst her own undergarments. Bracing herself for what she knew she had to do she picked up the poker from the set beside the fireplace. All of the implements were brass plated and ornate, clearly for show since the house elves used magic to tend to the fireplace. The tip of the poker was broad and blunt, almost the same width as a man's finger. She lowered her jeans and sat on the bed. Opening her legs she spread her hand over the soft flesh of her inner thighs before pressing the tip of the poker against her skin with bruising intensity.

It took longer than she had expected and she was forced to occlude fiercely as she disfigured her pale skin. Eventually though, she was satisfied with her handiwork. Removing her jeans and knickers she took the belt from its temporary hiding place. This was much more difficult. She had never attempted to flay herself before and had therefore had no idea of how awkward the angle would be. The tongue of the belt simply glanced off her backside with little more than a sting, certainly not the bruising force she required.

This was ridiculous. She almost left the room to demand that Malfoy do what he should have done the night before but the thought of facing him, semi naked so soon after their sexual encounter was too much to bear. She turned the belt around and brought the buckle end down hard on her backside. It hurt. It hurt a lot and as she became more skilled the pain only increased. It was also almost impossible to occlude whilst she was whipping herself, it required too much concentration, too much precision for her to disconnect her mind and she was forced to endure every blow. After what felt like an age she backed up to the mirror in the bathroom and examined her work. Her backside was a vibrant red, crisscrossed with ugly wide lines and occasional deeper weals from where the belt buckle had glanced off of her. She had at least one clearly identifiable imprint of the Malfoy crest on her buttocks. Surely that would satisfy even the most sadistic of torturers?

Malfoy was not present at dinner that evening nor breakfast the following morning and Hermione fought a strange compulsion to seek him out. It occurred to her that all herself abasement may well have been in vain if he had been summoned and had not taken her with him. Something told her that this was not the case though, that Voldemort would wish to witness her humiliation as well as that of Lucius.

Trying not to fret she went to the library intent on practicing her wandless magic. Now she knew that fiendfyre was intrinsically related to other forms of magical fire she somehow found it less intimidating. She had always found the casting of fires spell easier than her friends, of course that could have been because of her particular wand but then, she reasoned, the wand had chosen her. Summoning all of her concentration she attempted to create her trademark bluebell flames which had kept her and her friends warm on many a mischief making exercise. She was surprised and gratified when, on her third attempt they burst into existence and the library was filled with their strange blue light and the merry crackling of flames.

She was so engrossed in her spell casting that she only heard Malfoy at the door as it began to swing open and he was already in the room before she could extinguish the flames. Luckily she had been practicing moving the flames around and, at the time of his entry, the ball of fire had been hanging in a far corner of the room. As his eyes had turned to her on entering she hoped he had not seen what she had been doing although he did look around curiously.

"What are you doing Miss Granger?" She realised she was still standing with her arms raised above her head.

"Stretching." She answered guiltily, lowering her arms and realising she was blushing. Apparently it didn't matter that she was no longer capable of human emotions, she was a girl, Lucius Malfoy was a man and he had seen her naked, ergo she would blush. He didn't respond to her obvious lie, just regarded her steadily for a moment before he winced and placed his fingers against the sleeve covering his left arm.

"I am being summoned Miss Granger and the Dark Lord wishes your presence at his home."

"Oh." Hermione felt a trickle of dread run down her spine.

"I do not believe you have anything to fear." His eyes ran over her figure. "Might I suggest that you change your apparel before we leave though?" Hermione's gaze followed his. She was dressed as always in her jeans and a long sleeved cotton top. Of course if Malfoy were bending her to his will he would not allow her to appear dressed in muggle clothing.

"Of course." She agreed quietly and hurried to the doorway as he touched his hand to his arm once more.

She was ready in a remarkably short period of time and found Malfoy waiting outside her bedroom. He gave her a slight smile of approval this time. She was wearing a black silk dress which buttoned tightly beneath her breasts and nipped in at her narrow waist before flaring out to end at her calves. Beneath this she wore a pair of Victorian style lace up boots, the like of which she had seen both Bellatrix and Narcissa wear. The latter with considerably more flair.

She looked up and gave Malfoy what she hoped he would interpret as a significant stare.

"I'm ready Sir." She told him in an uncharacteristically meek tone of voice.

He raised an eyebrow. "Apparently so Miss Granger." He took hold of her upper arm and she closed her eyes as the pressure of apparition surrounded them.

They reappeared in a dark hallway, not dissimilar that of Malfoy Manor. Nobody else was there.

"Where are we?" Hermione hissed to Malfoy, looking around her with interest.

"The Black family home." Malfoy's voice was as quiet as hers. "After my various failures the Dark Lord decided to withdraw the honour of using Malfoy Manor as his headquarters."

 _The honour?_ Hermione looked up at Malfoy with an expression of barely concealed mirth which she was surprised to see him return before a door behind her swung open and a sickeningly familiar voice ran out.

"Lucius, you're here at last, we've been expecting you. Oh and look, you've brought your little pet." Before Hermione could protest Bellatrix had gripped her chin between her sharp fingers and was staring her straight in the eye. Hermione mentally retreated.

"Hello Bella." Malfoy's voice was flat. He walked past his sister in law through the doorway snapping his fingers in Hermione's direction as she did so. "Come along girl." Hermione followed meekly, wondering if there was any chance of her exiting the situation without being subjected to a bout of crucio from Bella's wand. The room they had entered was a sitting room of sorts and Hermione found the sight of several death eaters sprawled on the soft furnishing so incongruous as to be almost amusing. She kept her eyes downcast though and her thoughts firmly to herself. Malfoy had stopped at the entrance to the seating area and gave Voldemort a brief nod.

"My Lord."

Hermione came to stand slightly behind him and then, tapping into a dramatic flair she had not known she possessed, she dropped to her knees at Malfoy's feet keeping her eyes firmly on the floor.

"Luciusss," She heard Voldemort's sibilant tones. "Your charge seems much more subdued than last time I saw her. Have you done as I suggested?"

"I have my lord." She heard footsteps and saw a pair of black boots appear in her line of sight.

"Look at me girl." She obediently raised her eyes to his.

This time she was well prepared. Her safe room was well stocked with secrets, littered with horcruxes, wandless, magic, fiendfyre and dragon lore. Hermione stood outside its walls though. Around herself she had built a deliberately fragile wall. She felt Voldemort enter her mind and she fluttered at his consciousness deliberately casting mundane thoughts in his path, she showed him in detail what she had eaten for dinner the previous night, the text she had read on ancient runes when sleep had eluded her two nights previously, the view from her bedroom window. He pushed the thoughts aside irritably and turned his attention to the room in which she hid. Hermione allowed feelings of panic and shame to wash over her as he tore down her carefully constructed walls to view the memory she had tried to conceal from him. It had been easy to construct, Hermione found lying in her own imagination much easier than in reality. The images Voldemort saw had much of the truth in them.

He watched Lucius throwing her onto the bed, ripping off her nightgown plunging into her as she screamed in pain and begged him to stop. He watched her staring in horror at the smear of blood on his thighs, at the blood and semen that stained her own body. He watched her running a bath with trembling hands, submerging herself within the too hot water and crying bitterly at what had befallen her. She showed him enough truth, moments that had existed but taken out of context and combined with the events of two nights ago all mixed with her own very real shame and fear. He withdrew from her mind and cast an approving eye towards Malfoy.

"Luciusss, I am impressed." He returned to his chair and sank into it, his fingers caressing the length of his wand. "I must admit I did not think you capable of such violence." He licked his narrow lips.

"Thank you my lord." If Malfoy was surprised he did an admirable job of hiding it.

"I had thought to relieve you of your prize." Voldemort's tone was thoughtful. "But I must say she seems to be most obedient and the public are thrilled at the thought of your forthcoming wedding. I think you may keep her."

"Again thank you."

Hermione felt relief wash over her but the moment was short lived.

"Stand up girl." Voldemort's voice brooked no argument and Hermione quickly scrambled to her feet keeping her eyes downcast.

"Lift up your skirt."

She glanced at Lucius as if seeking his approval. He did not respond but she thought she saw a flicker of fear or perhaps it was simply resignation.

"Come on girl don't be shy, let us all see what the debonair and sophisticated Mr Malfoy is capable of." Voldemort was circling around her now. Hermione clutched at the hem of her skirt, her fear very real. Did they intend only to look? The other death eaters were looking at her with interest, many leaning forward in their seats, their eyes salaciously glued to her thighs.

"Please." Hermione's voice was soft, desperate.

"Is this really necessary My Lord."

She was surprised, she had not expected him to try and protect her.

"I will not ask again Lucius." Irritation had crept into Voldemort's voice and Hermione trembled.

"I apologise My Lord." Lucius drew his wand and aimed it at Hermione. She winced.

" _Imperio."_

She felt herself suddenly surrounded by his will, almost embraced by it. She almost felt relieve at the abrupt loss of any form of self determination. Terrified as she was she also felt as if she could truly relax for the first time in months.

"Lift up your skirt Miss Granger."

She didn't even try to disobey, simply raised the hem of her skirt above her waist. She happened to be looking at Lucius as she did so and saw his eyes widen fractionally, a brief look of horror crossing his usually expressionless face. Luckily everybody else was looking at her.

"Turn around." This from Voldemort.

She rotated. Her knickers were brief in anticipation of this moment and they did nothing to conceal the red weals which had become more pronounced as they had bruised overnight. She noticed the raised eyebrows of several of the assembled group, clearly Lucius had not been expected to succeed in his task. Immersed in his will as she was she could feel his confusion, his anger and his relief all hidden from the group but vying for supremacy within his innermost thoughts.

"I particularly like this." Voldemort pressed a long nailed finger against her buttock where the Malfoy crest stood out prominently from the bruised flesh around it. He stepped away. "Alright girl we're done with you."

"Kneel Miss Granger."

Hermione obediently knelt at Lucius' feet once more.

"Can I play with her My Lord?" Hermione recognised Bellatrix's voice from behind her and winced inwardly. "It's only fair." Bellatrix's voice was wheedling and she circled around Hermione, running her hand through her hair and jerking her head up so Hermione was forced to look into her empty black eyes.

"Well Luciusss, she's your toy. May Bella play with her?" There was an edge to Voldemort's tone and Hermione closed her eyes in fear. The only answer was yes, surely Malfoy knew that.

"If she must." Malfoy sounded bored. "But I would prefer that she did not," This time Hermione felt his large hand in her hair, running roughly down her cheek so his thumb brushed her lips. "It causes her mouth to twitch afterwards in a manner I find…alarming." There was a burst of ribald laughter at this and Hermione blushed.

"Take her away Luciusss." Voldemort commanded. "Bella you can play with her another time, let's not spoil Lucius' fun on this occasion."

"As you wish My Lord." She felt Lucius turn and walk towards the doorway. "Follow me girl." He barked and she quickly scrambled to her feet and scurried after him. Ignoring the laughter her hasty exit drew.

It was only when they had landed back safely in the hallway of Malfoy Manor that Lucius pulled her body up against his, his grey eyes burning with rage. "What did you show him?" He spat the words at her and Hermione recoiled in fear.

"I showed him what he wanted to see." She retorted, pulling her arm away from his. His hand shot out before she could retreat further and wrapped around her waist.

"And this?" He demanded, his large hand dropped splaying roughly across her tender backside, causing her to wince in pain. "How did you do this?"

"How do you think I did it?" She snapped back with equal venom, she placed both hands on his chest and pushed hard so he staggered backwards away from her.

She was halfway up the staircase before he spoke again, the quietness of his voice in no way concealing his rage.

"And what precisely do you think would have happened Miss Granger if the Dark Lord had chosen to look in my mind and not yours?"

She looked at him for several moments, her chest rising and falling, a million retorts hanging on her lips before she turned away from him and ran for the safety of her own room.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Happy Friday everyone! Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed. I can't believe how detailed and thoughtful so many of your reviews are - thank you all.**

 **I must also thank the lovely _planless_ who has kindly edited this chapter for grammar and spelling. Of course I fiddled with it after she sent it back so if there are any mistakes they are totally my fault. **

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She wasn't sure if the invitation to run together still stood. The engagement had been missed more times than kept. None the less, the following morning she dressed appropriately and made her way downstairs noting that the morning was a little darker than it had been the first time they had ventured out together. Winter was drawing closer.

She was on the bottom step of the stairs when it happened. Malfoy was indeed in the hallway waiting for her. Like she, he must have sensed the onset of winter and had dressed accordingly with a black hooded sweatshirt over his normal t-shirt. His hair was pulled back away from his face and as he turned to greet her she was struck for a moment by the full force of his arrogant beauty. It was not the first time she had appreciated him aesthetically. She had shared a home and a bed with the man, she knew he was easy on the eye but it was the first time that her stomach had performed the strange dipping motion she experienced as she halted in horror on the bottom stair.

The sensation was not unfamiliar. She had experienced it before, when Viktor Krum had escorted her into the Yule Ball and several times when Ron had looked at her in just that way. She had never expected her body to respond in such a manner to this man, to her enemy. She ignored his greeting and, clutching her stomach, ran past him as soon as the door had swung open. She set up a punishing pace, taking their usual path and not waiting to see if he would follow. Of course he did for he could hardly leave her to traipse the grounds on her own but he hung back as if respecting her privacy.

Eventually of course Hermione paid the price for her breakneck pace. By the time they had reached the lake where he had cast the fiendfyre she was out of breath and panting, a stitch burning into her side. She slowed, bending over to try and relieve the pain.

"Are you alright Miss Granger?" She thought for a moment he would touch her and she shied away. Keeping her arm pressed over her abdomen.

"I'm fine, it's just a stitch."

"Shall we go back to the house?"

"No!" She kept walking her arm wrapped around herself, ignoring him. He fell in beside her but didn't question her further. She did not look at him. Could not look at him. The lines of their relationship were suddenly hopelessly blurred. He had somehow ceased being her enemy. She no longer hated him. The man she had hated had been a fabrication, no more real than his perception of her as some sort of lesser being. She wondered if he still thought of her that way. If after all they had been through together he still hated her. She had given him little enough cause to feel otherwise.

"Mr Malfoy." Her voice startled them both as she stopped walking and stared up at him into those cool grey eyes, the expressionless face. He lied so well no wonder he had never needed to occlude. She doubted that anyone had ever doubted his word.

"Please will you tell me what happened to your wife?" She had to know, she realised. Had to know this man who, if they survived, would be her husband, the father of her children. Now that they had lain together it was no longer an abstract concept but a very real possibility. She needed to know. Nonetheless she flinched as she asked the question remembering his rage when she had brought Narcissa up before.

This time was different though. He drew in a sharp breath like she had struck him and looked out across the lake as if she might strip the answer from his mind.

"Why do you want to know?" The coolness of his voice was made a lie by the pain she had briefly seen in his eyes.

"Can we attribute it to my burning thirst for knowledge?"

He gave a faint smile. "Ah yes, your insatiable thirst."

He caressed the word insatiable with his tongue making her blush.

"I understand you will go to almost any lengths to assuage that need Miss Granger. Tell me, what will you give me in exchange for this piece of knowledge?"

She blushed harder, the memory of his body against hers coming unbidden into her mind.

"What do you want?" The words came out a throaty whisper.

He moved closer his gaze drifting down to her lips and for a moment, just a moment she thought he was going to draw her into his arms. He abruptly turned away.

"I want to know how you endure the cruciatus curse without so much as a whisper."

"Ah." She acknowledged his request. "I can show you, but it is something that takes time to learn, I'm not sure it will help you."

He nodded curtly, "I will take my chances. Very well, you want a story Miss Granger. I shall give you one." He resumed walking and she hurried to catch up with his long strides.

"Narcissa and I had an arranged marriage. Most of the unions in my family are the product of arrangements made when we are children. Draco was engaged from the age of four to Astoria Greengrass." He paused and she looked away tactfully as the pain flickered across his face. "There were actually very few witches of my generation who met my father's strict criteria. My family were strict about not allowing marriage between close relations and so the Black sisters were almost the only pureblood witches who were unrelated and deemed suitable. I was relieved when Narcissa was chosen for me. I always found Bella a little...volatile."

Hermione's lips turned slightly upwards at his understatement.

"I was fond of Narcissa, she gave me a son who I loved deeply and over the years I came to love her. We were never in love in the romantic sense of the word but she held a special place in my heart." He glanced down at her as if suddenly realising she was there and wondering why he was telling her so much. "Narcissa did not want me to become a death eater. I kept my hands clean as much as I could, restricted my involvement to financing the Dark Lord and petty intimidation." He glanced down at her. "Even so I did many things of which I am not proud. Narcissa believed that it was all somehow demeaning. She was right of course." He sighed looking out over the lake once more. "When the Dark Lord returned she begged me to go to Dumbledore, to cast us upon his mercy and beg for his protection. I refused. I couldn't stand the old fool and believed I found the Dark Lord preferable to him and his incessant pandering to muggles and half bloods."

Hermione flinched at the vitriol in his words and he looked down at her once more.

"I have never really known a muggle born witch before." He said, in what was almost a conciliatory tone. "You are quite the surprise Miss Granger."

She inclined her head at his not quite apology, waiting for him to continue.

"So I ignored her warning, returned to the service of the Dark Lord even though I could tell that he was more dangerous and unstable than he had ever been before. During the final year, when you and your friends were in hiding he seemed to lose his sanity in increments."

Hermione smiled grimly, privately thinking that the loss of each segment of his soul must have rendered him a little less human with each horcrux they destroyed.

"Narcissa and I did not participate in the Battle of Hogwarts. We were too busy looking for Draco and despite the eventual victory for the Dark Lord he did not forgive either of us our betrayal. Things became intolerable for us after the battle. If he had not required our ongoing funding he would have killed us both I believe. Then the atrocities really began. The imprisonment and murder of muggle borns was beyond what either of us had imagined. Narcissa had no more liking for muggles than I, but she knew what he was doing was wrong and she had no wish to continue as part of his regime. She began to make her plans to escape. I believe she planned to take me with her but she did not confide her plans in me. She was a talented occlumens. I am not. It was safer if I was unaware of what was happening." He sighed again. "She was not as good an occlumens as she thought." He looked hard at Hermione before he spoke again. "His power as a legilimens should never be underestimated. He saw her intentions and her revulsion for him and he had her killed while I watched. Shortly after that Draco took his own life. "

He began to walk once again and Hermione walked beside him looking up at his pale face, for once his pain starkly obvious.

"Why did you not kill yourself too?" Hermione heard herself ask the question and clutched her fingers to her lips in horror. What a question, she waited for his rage.

"Why indeed?" Malfoy's voice was gently mocking. "You have lost everyone you love Miss Granger have you not? Your friends, your boyfriend, your parents, why did you not use the knife he gave you the way Draco intended it to be used?"

Hermione avoided his gaze. "I still have things to do." She said softly.

To her surprise he laughed. "A good answer Miss Granger, I too have things to do." He squared his shoulders. "Are you ready to run again?" She nodded wordlessly but he was already moving smoothly away from her.

They didn't speak at breakfast but over lunch Malfoy fixed her with his piercing stare.

"Quid pro quo Miss Granger."

She had wondered how long it would take him to push the matter of her ability to withstand torture. She looked down at her plate feeling an unwelcome surge of pity for him. Even with her help she doubted he would be able to master the skills in time to make a significant difference to his current situation. She doubted either of them had a particularly long life span unless she made a breakthrough in her attempts at wandless magic. She did not share these thoughts with Malfoy though.

"I need to show you rather than tell you. If you will meet me in the library after lunch I will teach you what it is I do."

She had already prepared the room when he entered. He was no longer wearing his muggle clothing, dressed as always in sombre hued although elaborate robes his hair loose around his shoulders.

Hermione did not look too hard at him. His appearance was causing her more problems than she had anticipated. She felt that she had miscalculated when she had allowed him to touch her intimately. Whilst it had probably been unavoidable the manner of the encounter had left her vulnerable. Occlumency clearly worked well against torture but when it was pleasure not pain that was inflicted on the body it was much more difficult to separate the mind. There was a part of her that wanted to remember his touches and the way he had felt buried deep inside of her whereas no part had any desire to replay what it felt like to writhe in agony at the end of Voldemort's wand. She sighed and tried to put thoughts of both from her mind. Turning her attention to the single candlestick she had placed in the centre of the table.

She had become proficient in wandless fire spells, So much so that she could control several balls of her own blue flames at a time, propelling them around the room, summoning and extinguishing them at will. The magic had become such second nature to her that she unthinkingly raised a hand to ignite the candle before remembering at the last minute that she was not alone. She quickly ran the hand through her hair instead. Malfoy gave her a curious look.

"Please would you light the candle." She gestured at it as she took a seat at the desk. Malfoy sat opposite her and with a flick of his hand the candle sputtered into life. Hermione regarded him carefully across the flame.

"Do you know what dentists are Mr Malfoy?"

He shook his head, his eyes on the candle.

"My parents were both dentists, muggle tooth healers."

He looked at her with some interest. "How do muggles heal teeth?"

She wondered if the great Lucius Malfoy had ever spent enough time with a muggle to be able to ask these sorts of questions before.

"They use a drill to remove the decay, then pack the cavity with other materials to strengthen the tooth. Amongst other things." She shrugged, "I'm simplifying it."

He grimaced slightly. "It does not sound like a pleasant job. Your parents do this willingly?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, in the muggle world dentists are respected. They have to study for several years before they are allowed to practice and are well paid for what they do."

He gave her an 'if you say so' look but did not argue.

"Anyway." Hermione continued. "Muggle tooth healing is rather painful, even with the use of local anaesthetics. Pain relieving potions." She clarified at his confused look. "My mother began to take an interest in ways to alleviate the stress of patients and for them to deal with the pain, especially when they refused the pain relieving potions."

"Why would they refuse the pain relieving potions?" He interrupted.

"Because they have to be administered by means of a needle."

He winced. "How barbaric."

"It's not that bad." She reassured him before continuing. "My mother became interested in meditation and particularly the technique I am about to show you. She taught it to me when I was studying for my OWLS, I was prone to becoming a little overwrought at times." She blushed, it seemed foolish to imagine letting such a small thing as her exams concern her when her life was now so drastically altered. "The technique calmed me then but it wasn't until I spent a protracted length of time in your dungeon that I began to refine my skills. I didn't know how useful they would become." She tailed off unwilling to mention how the meditation had segued into occlumency.

"What do I have to do?" Malfoy asked her, his eyes once more on the candle.

"Look at the flame." She said softly. "Let it fill your mind completely. There should be nothing else in your thoughts, just the flame."

"And what will this achieve?" Malfoy's eyes were fixed on the flame but his expression was one of scepticism.

"Nothing immediately. But if you practice every day then eventually when you look at the flame you will reach a dissociative state where you mind is effectively separate from your body, once you reach this state it is possible to distance yourself from your body physically."

"As you did when we were intimate?"

She blushed to the very roots of her hair. "Yes."

"And that is what you did when you were tortured?"

"No. Well sort of. I have refined my technique, somewhat. Once you are proficient with the candle I might be able to teach you how to take things further but even mastering this takes time."

The rest of her sentence remained unspoken but they both heard the words. She did not believe either of them would survive long enough for him to become proficient in the technique. His eyes turned back to the candle.

"It seems such a simple thing. If I had not seen you achieve it I would not believe you."

Hermione shrugged unsure of how else to respond.

"How did you practice in the cellar when you had no candle?"

She thought his voice contained a hint of suspicion, she wondered if he had observed her previous gesture for what it truly was.

"Once you are proficient in the technique you can visualise the flame without it actually being present."

"Very well." His eyes returned once more to the flame. "For how long should I practice?"

"An hour each day to begin with."

He turned his eyes to hers once more. "Your mind must be a very regimented place Miss Granger."

She could almost see the wheels turning as he considered the ramifications of meditation, her control over her mind, what else she might have been doing in the dark of the dungeon and of what had occurred during her last interaction with Voldemort. She could see his agile mind processing the facts and then shutting down before the connection was made because to even think of her abilities would put them both at risk. In his own way Lucius Malfoy occluded as efficiently as she.

"I'll get out of your way." She said softly, moving to a sunny corner and picking up the book she had been reading. It was hard for her to concentrate though, when Malfoy was also present, staring with grim determination at the candle. She admired his perseverance. She had walked away from the exercise after a mere ten minutes the first time she had attempted it. Although she had been motivated only by stress. She supposed that agonising torture would drive a man to many things.

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The next week passed quietly enough. They ran together every morning, ate their meals together and for an hour every day after lunch Malfoy practised staring at the candle. His focus seemed particularly strong and Hermione had actually considered trying to steal his wand as he meditated but as soon as she had casually moved closer, on the pretence of returning her book to a nearby shelf he had started out of his trance and, glancing over at her had placed his cane securely over his knees before continuing.

Perhaps her desire to steal his wand was indicative of the degree of Hermione's desperation. She was due to marry Lucius in little more than a week. She knew that the wedding was to take place at the ministry of magic and she hoped that Nagini would be present. This would be her opportunity to kill the snake but she still had absolutely no idea how she was to achieve her goal. Her bluebell flames were second nature to her now. She could produce dozens of the little balls of flames and hurl them accurately at targets – she had taken to practising in the bathroom as the library was clearly not a safe place to play with fire. Despite her proficiency in this, more benign fire magic, she had no inkling that she would even be able summon let along control fiendfyre and she didn't dare attempt to try whilst confined to the manor for fear that she burn down the entire building.

Her desperation had brought her close to confiding in her captor. He was clearly unhappy and had expressed his lack of support for Voldemort's regime. Deep down she believed that he probably was sympathetic to her cause but his inability to occlude meant that he would be as much a liability as an ally. Nonetheless she considered it still. As far as she could see Voldemort didn't routinely dip into the minds of his trusted followers perhaps Lucius would be able to keep their secret for long enough for her to kill the snake.

It was Lucius himself who prevented her from confiding in him. She knew that somewhere along the line she had become vulnerable to his particular brand of charm. He had been her only companion for four months. In a strange way he had become everything to her and she doubted her own judgement. She could not trust her fragile grip on reality enough to believe that he was not manipulating her to his own and Voldemort's end. Paralysed by indecision she could do nothing but hone her skills and wait for a miracle.

No miracle was forthcoming. Indeed quite the opposite. A week before their proposed wedding date Hermione entered the dining room to find the table set for three. Lucius was already seated but rose, as was his habit when she entered. The other diner remained seated, his pale twisted face sneering openly at Hermione as she took a few steps into the room.

 _Dolohov!_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N I'm so sorry about the cliffhanger - I'm also sorry that I left it for two days, I meant to update last night but ended up being really busy, I hate cliffhangers. Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed followed and favourited, I love the notifications that pop up on my phone throughout the day. I know a lot of you are looking forward to seeing Lucius and Hermione working together a bit more and I hope maybe there are some hints towards that in this chapter. Albeit in a really weird way. Thanks again to Planless for editing this for me. Like last time I fiddled after she did so any weird punctuation is entirely my fault.**

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One hand fluttered to her chest as the memory of the slashing curse burned briefly there. She hadn't noticed Dolohov amongst the assembled death eaters when she had been in Voldemort's presence before. If she had she would not have been able to curtail her response. Her eyes met his, her hatred clearly written all over her face. This was the man who had tried to kill her, who had killed Molly Weasley's brothers, who had killed Lupin. She disliked Malfoy. She _hated_ Dolohov.

"Sit down, Miss Granger." Lucius hadn't used that tone with her for some time. It was cold and compelling and it reminded her abruptly of where she was and what role she had carved out for herself. Only the horcruxes mattered. She couldn't allow her own private vendetta to get in the way of her ultimate goal.

She sat, but not before she cast another malevolent glance in Dolohov's direction.

"Your pet isn't quite as docile as I was led to believe Lucius." His voice was rusty as if he didn't use it much. "Perhaps you are too soft on her. That's what Bella thinks, anyway."

"It is none of your concern how I treat my _fiancée."_ Lucius' voice had its usual glacial chill.

"That's not strictly true though is it Lucius?" Dolohov grinned at his host taking a large swallow of his wine. "I wouldn't be here if there weren't rumours that you'd gone soft." His eyes flicked over Hermione in the same manner that a farmer might assess a cow at an auction. "You let her eat at the same table as you. A mudblood." He spat the word.

"I let her do many things with me."

Lucius' insinuation was clear and Hermione felt herself blush even though his words were flagrantly untrue.

"I find keeping her well fed, clean and close at hand inspires a degree of gratitude which she expresses in a most pleasant manner. Besides," Now he was the one eyeing her up. Hermione shrank down into her chair. "You know me Antonin, I have always had the best of everything. Whilst Miss Granger's blood status is _unfortunate,_ her deficiencies only render her more eager to compensate in other areas. I have no desire to permanently disfigure a rather pleasing possession."

He ran his index finger along the top of his wine glass and licked a red droplet from the digit whilst holding her eyes. Hermione blushed harder and stared at her plate. Dolohov snorted but didn't reply.

Hermione toyed with her food as the two men made desultory conversation. Some of it was political, most of it made little sense to her, although she pricked up her ears at Dolohov's brief mention of an incident at the ministry of magic. He quickly glanced her way though and fell silent, taking another large swallow from his wine goblet. He ate and drank quickly, as if he expected the food to be taken away from him before he had time to finish, and, as a consequence, his plate was cleared almost before Hermione had even started to eat. He pushed it aside and casually stood, leaning over the table to grasp Hermione's plate and pull it towards himself.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hermione responded without thinking, also standing and reaching across to retrieve her plate. He batted her hand away.

"I think it's time you learned your place, mudblood." His eyes blazed with vindictive fervour. "You have no right to eat when a pureblood has an empty plate."

Before she had in anyway considered the consequences of her actions Hermione stabbed her fork into the back of his hand, feeling the sickening grate of steel against bone as the tines sank a satisfying distance into his flesh. Dolohov's shriek of agony was absolutely worth the _stupefy_ which came moments later hurling her against the wall of the dining room in a crash of shattered glassware and falling paintings. In a flash Dolohov had hurdled the table and was standing over her, breathing heavily, his wand inches from her face.

"You little bitch."

The words came through clenched teeth and Hermione felt a stab of fear. Malfoy she could push, not so Dolohov. This really was the end of the line for her. She closed her eyes, waiting for the curse to come.

Instead it was Lucius' voice she heard. Cold and dark and filled with menace. "Enough."

She opened her eyes to see him standing over both of them, his wand at Dolohov's temple.

"Lower your wand, Antonin. I won't ask again."

Dolohov actually growled, but slowly lowered his wand, a trickle of blood running down his wrist. "Are you just going to let her get away with that, Lucius? You're as soft as they say you are."

"Miss Granger will be punished." His voice was terrifying. "By me, at a moment of my choosing. Go to your room, Miss Granger."

His cold eyes met hers and Hermione leapt to her feet and rushed from the room before he changed his mind. She didn't even linger on the stairs to listen to the raised voices coming from the dining room but instead fled to her own bedroom, slamming the door and placing the chair, once more, beneath the handle.

It was hours later and she had actually dozed off lying fully clothed on her bed when the door handle rattled. There was a low hiss from the other side of the door and the chair flew across the room, crashing against the opposite wall. Hermione shot off the bed, to stand in the bathroom, warily watching the bedroom door. She had known the chair beneath the door handle trick was unlikely to be of much use against magic.

The door opened and she let out a breath of relief as Lucius rather than Dolohov stepped into the room. The feeling was short lived however as she realised that he was angrier than she had ever seen him before.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He hissed the words at her, leaning his head back against the closed door his cane clutched across his chest. His entire body vibrated with barely constrained fury as if at any moment he would launch himself at her and shake her until her teeth rattled. It struck Hermione that Lucius Malfoy became quieter with rage rather than louder. Right now, he was practically whispering.

"I'm sorry." She wrung her hands, genuinely meaning it. "I hate him… I - I lost control."

"I have never seen you lose control." He left the door and stalked towards her, throwing his cane on the bed. "What on earth possessed you to endanger us both in such away tonight?"

"I don't know." She bit her lip, avoiding his eyes and forcing herself not to back away. Remorse flooded her. "I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy. He just made me so angry, I forgot myself."

At her apology the fight appeared to drain out of Lucius. He sank down onto her bed and buried his face in his hands.

"I cannot protect you, Miss Granger."

The words were wrung out of him with painful honesty.

"I can barely protect myself. You must understand that my time in the Dark Lord's service is numbered and if word reaches him of your insubordination it may be sufficient to terminate my employment."

She knew exactly what he was saying. Being a death eater was not a career which one quietly retired from in order take up a comfortable life in the country. Lucius was talking about his own death.

"Where is Dolohov?"

Hermione took a cautious step towards him, no longer afraid but not knowing how to offer him any comfort.

"Probably pressing his ear against the door as we speak, eagerly awaiting the sound of my punishing you."

"He thinks you're punishing me?"

"I doubt it. Although that is what I told him I was coming to do. In reality he probably thinks I'm brushing your hair and rubbing your shoulders. Dolohov knows me too well."

Hermione didn't pause to consider the implications of exactly what he had said. Instead she crossed to her chest of drawers and dug underneath her underwear.

"Punish me then."

She placed his black leather belt in his hands. Lucius froze staring at it.

"How did you get this?"

Hermione was already unbuttoning her jeans.

"From your bedroom."

"But my bedroom door is always locked."

She avoided his gaze and removed her jeans along with her socks.

"You must have forgotten on the occasion I gained access."

He didn't reply, his fingers absently playing with the buckle of his belt.

"I'm not doing this."

"You have to."

Without embarrassment Hermione took off her knickers and leant over the chest of drawers, bracing her fingers against the wood.

"For both of our sakes you have to."

He didn't respond and she turned to look over her shoulder at him.

"It will hurt more if I have to do it myself."

"Please don't make me do this." His voice was almost broken and Hermione felt a flash of pity before something else blossomed within her.

"You do not get to feel sorry for yourself over this." She rounded on him, poking a finger into his chest, completely oblivious to the fact that she was naked from the waist down. "You chose to be a death eater, you chose this life. Did you think it was going to be all tea and cake and looking down your well bred nose at scum like me? You chose to follow a despotic megalomaniac and this is your punishment." She turned once more to bend over the chest of drawers. "Now get on with it."

She still wasn't sure he would actually comply until she felt the first tentative stroke of the belt across her buttocks. It was clear that Lucius Malfoy had no secret penchant for sadism. He wielded the belt with even less dexterity than Hermione had. His strokes landed weakly and erratically over her backside. She didn't even have to occlude. Slowly, when she made no sound of protest and failed to flinch, he began to work into a routine and the strokes came harder. She had to grit her teeth to stop herself from crying out.

"I'm going to start screaming now." She told him as matter of factly as she could. "Don't you dare stop."

It was surprisingly easy. She moved into her safe room, dissociating her brain from the pain her body was feeling. Then, as she had when she had had sex with Lucius, she let her body free. The wails of pain sounded as if they came from someone else. Hermione was a casual voyeur looking down from a great height on a sickening scene of violence. She realised now that remaining silent whilst she underwent torture was much more difficult than hiding away and allowing her body to react as it would.

Finally she heard a metallic clunk as Lucius threw the belt onto the floor. He dropped backwards onto the bed once more, head buried in his hands, the fall of his long blond hair obscuring his face. Gradually Hermione allowed her body to reconnect with her mind. Her backside throbbed painfully and she tentatively placed a hand against the red hot flesh, wincing at even the gentle contact.

She turned around, still strangely unembarrassed. Lucius had raised his head and was looking at her, his face a mask of horror.

"Is he gone?" Hermione whispered.

Lucius shook himself as if in a daze.

"Is Dolohov still outside the door?" she hissed at him.

Slowly, mechanically, Lucius withdrew his wand from its cane. Damp tendrils of hair clung to his face and Hermione felt a strange urge to comfort him despite the fact that she was the one whose backside felt like it had been set alight. He flicked his wand and Hermione heard his murmured " _Homenum Revelio._ "Lucius appeared to be looking through the door for a moment before he nodded.

"He's leaving."

"Good."

Hermione lay face down on the bed, not caring that her arse was still prominently on display. She felt like one of the monkeys indigenous to the Amazon jungle who were covered in hair except for their huge red backsides, except neither she nor Lucius found anything remotely alluring in her display.

They remained in silence for several minutes. Hermione lying on the bed, Lucius standing by the door. Eventually Lucius spoke.

"I think it is safe for me to leave, too."

"Fine."

Hermione didn't even raise her head from the pillow. He had done what he had to and she would be damned if she was going to make this any easier for him. Still she sensed his hesitation.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

She ignored him and eventually the door closed with a soft click.

It was the middle of the night when she awoke again. After Lucius had left she had wearily gotten up from the bed and rubbed some essence of dittany onto her sore backside. Then she had put on one of the shorter nightgowns in her drawers and lain down on top of the covers, bum in the air. She was surprised that sleep had taken her at all in that position.

It was light streaming in from the corridor that woke her and she turned her head sleepily towards its source.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" She muttered irritably. The door slammed shut and she gave a shriek of terror as the man who had entered spoke.

"He's sleeping I imagine, but the real question is - what could we be doing, mudblood?"

Hermione leapt off the bed for the second time that night and made a run for the bathroom only to find herself rugby tackled before she could reach the doorway.

"Oh no, you don't, mudblood whore." Dolohov was crawling up her body and she winced as the belt of his trousers made contact with her scorched buttocks. "Bloody Malfoy can't stop boasting about how much he enjoys you… Bastard won't share though." His hand moved under her to grope at her breasts. "So I thought I'd just sample the goods for myself." He started trying to turn her over.

Hermione had considered the possibility of being attacked by death eaters before, many times. Under her current circumstances she had concluded that the best thing to do would be to occlude and wait for it to all be over, and if Malfoy had forced himself upon her that was probably what she would have done. But this wasn't Lucius, it was Dolohov, the man she abhorred above all others except Voldemort himself and she would not, could not submit to him without a fight. She let out a scream of rage and terror, clawing at his face, trying to draw her knee up between his legs. He overpowered her with an ease which made a mockery of her months of training. What was the point in being physically fit when her opponent was always guaranteed to win by virtue of sheer size alone? Still she continued to bite and scratch as she felt him forcing her legs open, felt the hardness of him close to her centre. Then suddenly she felt his weight pressing down even more heavily as somewhere above her another voice whispered, " _Petrificus Totalus._ "

The full weight of a petrified Dolohov drove the last vestiges of air out of Hermione's lungs and she passed out for a few seconds. When she came to it was to see a furious Dolohov dangling from one ankle above the head of an equally furious Malfoy.

"Antonin." He was so quiet she could barely hear him. "I believe I expressly told you I do not share." He dropped Dolohov head first on the carpet before hitting him with a blast of the Cruciatus curse. Hermione huddled into the corner nearest the bed. Dolohov screamed and writhed on the floor.

"I'm sorry. Lucius, I'm sorry." His words were barely comprehensible.

"Promise me this will never happen again. _Crucio."_

The dark haired wizard jerked spasmodically, whimpers of agony wrung from his lips, the lower one bitten through during a particularly violent spasm.

"It will never happen again, Lucius, I swear."

Abruptly Lucius flung Dolohov's wand out of the bedroom door into the hallway. "Go to bed, Antonin," he said with disgust in his voice. The other death eater dragged himself onto his hands and knees and crawled towards the doorway, shying away from Lucius as he did so.

Lucius slammed the door behind him and cast some complicated wards over it. Hermione continued to huddle in her corner, looking up at him in barely concealed terror. He was naked save for a pair of pyjama bottoms, his chest was magnificent, muscular but not overly defined, his arms well shaped. Even his naked feet were elegant but his eyes were like chips of ice.

"Are you alright Miss Granger?" He finally turned to face her fully, lowering his wand. Hermione nodded, nervously.

"Yes. Thank you." Her tongue felt swollen in her mouth. She cringed away when he came towards her. It had been so long since he had demonstrated his power that she had begun to forget just how much he could hurt her if he so chose.

"I won't hurt you." It was as if he had read her mind. He extended his hand towards her and tentatively she took it. He drew her to her feet.

"He didn't…"

"No." She cut him off quickly. "You got here in time. Thank you." Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she retreated mentally before he could sense her weakness.

"You should lie down." He gestured towards the bed and she gratefully sank down onto the mattress, suddenly exhausted. He hesitated for a moment, hovering above her, his wand still loosely held in one hand.

"Don't you want the covers over you?"

"No." She yawned loudly. "It hurts too much. Lucius?"

"Yes?"

"Will you stay?"

He didn't answer but walked around the bed to the other side and slid gracefully under the covers, placing his wand under his pillow. He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. Hermione watched him until she fell asleep.

If Hermione had been living in a romance novel then she and Lucius would have woken up with their bodies awkwardly intertwined the following morning. She would have felt his arousal against her and succumbed to his manly charms as the two of them simultaneously realised that the animosity which had previously plagued their relationship was simply the result of pent up sexual tension.

This was not the manner in which Hermione awoke. There was no sleepy sliding into consciousness. There was an abrupt transition from asleep to awake and the equally abrupt realisation that during the night she had in fact reached out to Malfoy. He lay on his back, eyes closed, hair spread over the pillow. Hermione was on her side, facing him but a respectable distance away, apart from her right hand which rested over his heart. Beneath her fingers was the steady reassurance of the beat of his heart and the warm silkiness of his skin. She snatched her hand away as soon as she realised its location. The rapidity of Malfoy's response indicated that he had not been asleep either. His head turned towards her, his grey eyes instantly finding her own.

"Are you alright?"

She gave him a rather wan smile. Her backside felt tight and sore and her muscles ached from her fight with Dolohov. Worse than the physical pain though was the fear. Of course she was permanently afraid, her life in Malfoy Manor an uncertain one. The threat of death or torture was never that far away but Dolohov's presence in the house, his actual tangible physical threat terrified her in a new way. She wanted to hide under the covers and pray that the bogeyman wouldn't come and find her.

"Stupid question." Malfoy said to himself, when she failed to answer. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Hermione eyed the broad plane of his back. His hair had instantly swung into a perfect curtain, unlike her own tangled mane, and she wanted to reach out and run her fingers through its silky length. Instead she curled them into the blanket beneath her.

"How long will he be staying?" She asked his back in a small voice.

Lucius shrugged, his shoulder blades rising as he did so. "I don't know. Until he reports back to the Dark Lord that you truly are as cowed as you seem, until the wedding, until we are both killed. Stabbing him with your fork probably wasn't the best way to convince him that you're a broken woman."

"No." Hermione sat up, wincing as her backside made contact with the mattress. "I'm sorry." He didn't respond, still sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. "He was the one who brought me here, did you know that?"

"I did."

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "One minute Ron and I were fighting, back to back, firing off curses all over the place. I felt invincible. The next thing I knew Ron was down… Dead, I suppose." Her voice trailed off for a minute and she clenched her fingers in her lap. "Then Dolohov grabbed me and apparated me into your dungeon. I never understood why."

"I believe he meant to claim you as his prize."

"Then why didn't he?"

Lucius stood and turned towards her. "The Dark Lord likes to foster discordance amongst his minions. Giving Dolohov's reward to me as a punishment puts both of us in our places and ensures that we will not unite against him. Sending Dolohov here to spy on me will only fuel the resentment he feels towards me. The Dark Lord may well be hoping that one of us will kill the other before the week is out."

"Then why don't you kill him?"

Malfoy gave a bark of laughter that held little humour. "You are bloodthirsty today, Miss Granger. I won't kill him because I am only second guessing the Dark Lord's motives. My situation is precarious enough without giving him an excuse to end my life."

Hermione nodded her head as she processed his words. Then she too stood up, slightly embarrassed at the brevity of her nightgown and the intimacy of the situation when viewed in the cold light of day.

"Mr Malfoy, I need you to do something for me."

A pained look crossed his face and he rubbed his fingers across his eyes. "What more would you have me do Miss Granger? Did I not beat you hard enough last night?"

"I need you to place me under the Imperius curse."

His jaw dropped. "What?"

"I need you to imperio me and specifically instruct me not to kill Dolohov."

Malfoy ran his eyes over her body. "Miss Granger, I do not mean to disparage you, but judging by what I interrupted last night there is little chance of you killing Dolohov. Surely my Imperius curse would be better directed at him."

Hermione sighed. "I was taken by surprise last night. Please, Mr Malfoy, you have to believe me. I cannot be responsible for my actions around that man, and if you don't want him to die then you need to imperio me."

Malfoy frowned, his grey eyes puzzled. "Why do I feel as if you are manipulating me?" He wondered aloud before raising his wand. " _Imperio_."

Hermione felt the force of his will surround her once more. It was pleasant, comforting, warm. She relaxed into it, feeling no need to resist."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You are remarkably compliant."

"You haven't asked me to do anything I don't want to."

"True. Miss Granger, I forbid you from killing Antonin Dolohov. There, are you satisfied?"

She nodded her head. "Thank you, Mr Malfoy. It's better this way, I promise."

"Very well." He backed away towards the door. "I believe you will be safe enough this morning. I will see you at breakfast."

She nodded again and he left the room, closing the door behind him with a gentle click.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N Well maybe I should do cliffhangers more often - I got record views for my last update! Lots of lovely reviews too - thank you all again. Special thanks to Planless for editing this chapter for me and to Aliduck who read it through and reassured me that things really did make sense - thank you both. Thank you also for all your reviews and favourites they make me really happy and I've changed the last few chapters quite a bit in response to all your suggestions.**

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She kept her head down at breakfast. She was determined to be quiet and compliant despite Dolohov's attempts to rile her. He directed a stream of insults her way and when he was not critiquing her appearance or her heritage or taunting her for her lack of a wand he was aiming equally vitriolic comments in Lucius' direction. Hermione did notice the dark haired man flinch when Lucius reached for his cane though suggesting that the balance of power was currently slightly in the blond wizard's favour.

For her own part Hermione was quietly terrified. She had been shocked at the ease with which Dolohov had subdued her the previous evening. She had truly thought that her months of training would have allowed her to hold her own a little better in a physical fight but Dolohov had overpowered her in a matter of seconds. Short of taking lessons from a martial arts expert she wasn't sure how she would ever be able to take on a stronger male without magic. Rightly or wrongly she no longer feared Lucius, in fact she considered him her protector as much as she considered herself his. She also realised that Lucius was limited in the protection he could justifiably provide her and that he could not remain at her side twenty-four hours a day. There were still six days to survive before their wedding and if Dolohov intended to be present the entire time Hermione thought her chances to get away unscathed were almost nil.

Lost in her own thoughts, barely aware of Dolohov's bitter diatribe, she barely touched her breakfast and gave not a murmur of protest when he once more snatched her food away from her and finished it. It was a curious habit she thought, clearly a means by which he demonstrated his own perceived superiority and it had infuriated her the day before. Now she was unwilling to allow him to rile her further. If it angered Lucius, he held his tongue as he allowed the behaviour without comment. Indeed, as soon as Hermione had finished her tea he dismissed her with a curt order.

"Go to your room, mudblood."

He hadn't called her that for weeks and Hermione could not help but glance at him with a look of reproach. His icy stare conveyed no apology for his words and she slunk out of the room and into her own feeling angry at both Lucius and Dolohov.

She did not go downstairs for lunch. She had a number of books stowed away in her room and spent the day reading sprawled across her bed and practicing her wandless magic in the safety of the bathroom. During that time a plan of action had formed somewhere in the back of her mind. It was clear to her that she and Dolohov could not exist in the same house without her coming to grave harm. It therefore made sense that he must be eliminated and, if she were honest with herself, the thought of eliminating the death eater filled her only with a sort of grim satisfaction. Whenever she allowed her mind to wander in that direction however Lucius' imperious curse would gently steer it away. It was so effective that she was prevented from even contemplating Dolohov's murder in all but the most abstract of manners. This was enough for Hermione though as she realised that Lucius had taught her more than simply how to cast fiendfyre - he had taught her the fine art of self-delusion.

Wriggling on her stomach she retrieved a weighty tome from underneath her bed. Within its pages, pressed firmly between two pieces of parchment were a few dried out leaves. She slid two of them into her pocket and made her way down to dinner, mind curiously empty.

Dolohov was late to the meal and she and Lucius sat in silence as they awaited his arrival. Lucius sipped from his wine and studiously avoided looking at her. She wasn't sure if he was angry with her or simply feared that any interaction between the two of them might be witnessed and correctly interpreted by Dolohov. She could not help but sneak surreptitious glances at her host. He was immaculate as always, his blond hair brushing the shoulders of his robes, dark grey this evening, embroidered with a complex motif of snakes and leaves across the shoulders and chest, the ever present snakes' heads glinting at his throat. His face was like chiselled marble, his expression haughty and arrogant, not a flicker of self doubt or fear evident despite the circumstances he found himself in. As if feeling her scrutiny he turned his eyes to hers and they exchanged a long look before Dolohov suddenly burst into the room.

He gave not a word of apology and leaned across the table to fill his own wine goblet from the decanter before sitting down.

"Lucius, mudblood." He greeted them with a nod and a sneer.

"Antonin." Lucius' voice was cold.

"You must be hungry, mudblood, since you missed your lunch." Dolohov shovelled food into his mouth with little care. Hermione wondered if part of Voldemort's reason for sending this particular Death Eater to watch over Lucius was the offence his horrific manners would undoubtedly cause the aristocratic wizard. She suspected that in Lucius' eyes having to watch Dolohov eat was almost as painful as being forced to marry a mudblood. She kept her eyes on her plate, stirring her winter greens distractedly and eating a little of the seared tuna that accompanied them.

She was unsurprised when Dolohov reached across the table to grasp her plate once more but this time she was unable to prevent her response, the compulsion to stop him overwhelming her.

"No you mustn't, don't eat that!" She lunged across the table desperately trying to remove the plate from his grasp, spilling his wine and knocking over the candelabra.

"Don't you ever learn your lesson?" He backhanded her hard across the face, causing her to sprawl over the table. Her cheekbone felt as if it were exploding but already she was righting herself, trying desperately to get back to the plate of food.

"Miss Granger." Lucius' cold voice stopped her in her tracks, half on, half off the table. "This behaviour is not to be tolerated, you will go to your room immediately." The warm implacable power of the imperius curse washed over her. She was unable to do anything but comply. Backing out of the doorway, she watched in fascinated horror as house elves swarmed around the ruined table, righting the candelabra and magically clearing the shattered crystal. Beyond them Dolohov eyed her triumphantly as he began to eat her dinner.

Hermione was sitting in the empty bath wrapped in several blankets when she heard her bedroom door open. She looked nervously towards the locked bathroom door. It wouldn't provide much of a barrier between herself and Dolohov if he chose to enter but she hoped the lock would at least buy her sufficient time to scream the place down. Whether Lucius would actually consider saving her a second time was another matter – she had seen enough of his face to know that his anger towards her at dinner had been genuine.

"Miss Granger?" She breathed a sigh of relief at Lucius' cultured drawl.

"I'm in here."

The lock clicked back and the door swung open. The sight of Lucius standing in the doorway dressed only in a pair of black pajama bottoms caused Hermione's mouth to suddenly go dry. She looked away, unwilling to allow herself to study the smooth planes of his unmarked abdomen or the crisp line of his jaw revealed by his hair which he had tied back in preparation for sleep.

"Not a very effective hiding place," he commented, looking down at her with a glint of humour in his grey eyes.

Hermione shrugged and wrapped her blanket a little more securely around her shoulders. "My options were limited." She stood up rather stiffly and Lucius extended a hand to help her out of the bath. "I'm sorry about dinner." She looked up at him.

He sighed heavily. "Yes, not your best performance. I had to ply him with the better part of a bottle of very expensive malt in order to render him insensate."

Hermione followed him out into the bedroom. "So he's not waiting outside for the voyeuristic pleasure of hearing you punish me?"

"No, not tonight. Tonight he is unconscious on a couch in the drawing room. Perhaps he'll choke to death in his sleep."

Hermione avoided his eyes. "Perhaps."

Lucius hesitated, causing her to glance at him once more. She didn't think she had ever seen him look less than sure of himself even in the most uncomfortable of circumstances.

"I thought I might remain here tonight." He stopped and looked at her, clearly waiting for a response.

Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest. "Thank you, I would feel safer if you did."

"Very well then." He walked around the end of the bed and climbed under the covers, tucking his wand beneath the pillow and turning his back towards the vacant side. After a moment's hesitation Hermione followed suit and climbed into her own side of the bed, keeping as much space as possible between herself and Lucius. He muttered a brief 'nox' and the candles were extinguished, leaving them in darkness.

Waking up next to Lucius Malfoy was rather like waking up next to a beautiful work of art. When Hermione opened her eyes in early hours of the morning she couldn't help but turn her head to regard the man next to her. Once more she had reached out to him in her sleep. Her hand lay on his chest, she could feel soft hair beneath her fingers, the warmth of his skin and the steady reassuring beat of his heart. One of his hands covered hers, his fingers slotted between her own, her hand almost completely engulfed by his larger one. It brought a lump to her throat. Where had this casual intimacy come from? When had his presence gone from being something she endured so something she desired? When had his touch become welcome? Perhaps they were not as dissimilar as both their prejudices would have them believe. Neither of them truly had a place in this new world order, both of them were alone, save for each other.

The slight puffiness of sleep, the drift of stubble across his jaw, the early morning tangles in his hair should have somehow diminished from Lucius' beauty. If anything they accentuated it. She was reminded once more of a fallen angel. She resisted the compulsion to touch, to run her free hand up over his jawline, to trace the sensual curve of his surprisingly full lower. Reality would soon intrude and it did, in the form of the soft chime of a tempus charm emanating from beneath Lucius' pillow.

He stirred, not immediately springing awake in the abrupt and painful way that Hermione always did but rising slowly through the layers of sleep. He stretched his free arm above his head, at the same time tightening his fingers around her hand and turning his sleepy grey gaze on the woman beside him. Their eyes locked. The steady pounding of the heart beneath her hand made Hermione only too aware of the frantic beating of her own as she and Lucius continued to stare at each other in the intimacy of the early morning light.

It was Lucius who pulled away and she was grateful to him because she truly believed that had he continued to look at her for a single second longer she would have thrown herself into his arms and begged him to make love to her. She sat up, pulling the covers over her chest and turning away from him trying to push down the feelings which, for a moment, had threatened to overwhelm her. When she looked back towards Lucius he was standing, looking quizzically at her.

"Do you wish to run this morning?"

The normalcy of the question surprised her and she was only able to nod stupidly in answer.

"Good." Lucius opened the bedroom door. "I will see you downstairs in ten minutes."

It was good to be outside. To feel the painfully crisp autumn air flooding her lungs and chasing away the befuddlement of the previous night. Whatever she had felt that morning, whatever subtle intimacy she had imagined between herself and the blond man beside her was gone now. She was his prisoner, he was a death eater. She had successfully relegated them both back to their appropriate roles and was relieved to have done so. Lucius did not seem inclined to talk and they ran in silence, only the sound of their staccato breaths accompanying them. As they parted company in the hallway, Lucius caught her arm. Hermione gasped at the feeling of his warm fingers encircling her wrist and they both looked down at their joined flesh.

"Miss Granger." He released her. "I would ask that you not make things any more difficult for us than they already are this morning."

She looked up at him, biting her lip. She wanted to say something, to acknowledge what he had done to try to keep her safe. Perhaps to apologise for her past deeds or for what she was yet to do, or for the so far unknown consequences of her previous actions, but she didn't know what to say and instead she simply nodded once more. He returned her nod before leaving her alone in the hallway, staring after his departing figure.

Dolohov was late for breakfast. Hermione was already a good way through her food and eating as fast as she could when he staggered into the dining room. Hermione ignored him, continuing to shovel food into her mouth in a manner Lucius probably felt was rather uncouth. She didn't care. Having had her last three meals curtailed by the dark haired death eater, she was ravenous. It was more difficult not to look at Dolohov when he was sitting directly opposite her though. He slumped into his chair and reached blearily for the coffee pot.

"I don't know what you gave me last night, Lucius, but I feel like shit."

"Nothing but Ogden's finest, Antonin, I assure you. Perhaps you overindulged."

Dolohov merely grunted in response. Hermione risked a quick glance in his direction. He looked dreadful. His face was a pale greenish grey and beads of sweat dotted his upper lip. For once he was not eating his food, merely pushing it around his plate and swigging from his coffee cup. He caught Hermione's eye and sneered at her.

"What are you looking at, mudblood?" With difficulty he stood and, leaning across the table, picked up her plate. Hermione gave a resigned sigh. At least she had eaten most of her breakfast. Instead of taking her food for himself this time he hurled the plate in her general direction. Hermione gave a squeak, more of surprise than pain as the bowl bounced off the table splattering her with lukewarm porridge.

"Antonin." Lucius' voice was sharp. "I will not tolerate these manners at my table."

Dolohov turned on him and Hermione pushed her chair back a little from the table unwilling to be caught between the two of them. Dolohov's hand had gone to his wand and Lucius had half drawn his own when both wizards gave identical winces of pain. It would almost have been comical had not the situation been so fraught with tension.

Dolohov's eyes turned to Hermione once more. "Just you wait little girl." He allowed his gaze to rake over her body. "Once the dark lord hears that Lucius is keeping you as his own pampered little pet you'll be mine for the taking."

Hermione looked at Lucius, unable to keep the fear from her eyes at Dolohov's threat. His wand was already fully drawn.

"Enough empty threats, Antonin, off you go to your master. There's a good dog."

Lucius' tone was vicious but Dolohov heeded his words, touching the tip of his wand to the mark on his arm and disapparating with a soft pop. Lucius began to roll up his own shirt sleeve. Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest. Sudden terror gripped her and she forced herself to lock it away. What was done was done. There was nothing she could do to change it now.

"Please be careful."

The words escaped her lips before she could fully consider what she was saying and she pressed her fingers over her mouth as if she could take them back. Lucius gave her a curious look.

"I am always careful, Miss Granger. Go to your room and stay there."

He didn't even look to see if she obeyed him, pressing the tip of his own wand against the dark mark and disappearing from the room.

Hermione was already on her way through the door, the compulsion of the imperius curse impossible to resist and in truth she did not even try.

The hours passed interminably slowly. Hermione did press-ups and crunches until her muscles cramped and spasmed. She practiced her wandless magic hurling balls of flames at the walls and extinguishing them just before they ignited the paper. She read the books she had on her nightstand from cover to cover. Finally she gave up all pretence of other activity and paced back and forth across the carpet counting the number of steps it took her to reach the wall in each direction. She had forgotten how to bear captivity she realised. She was too used to having the run of the manor and the freedom to come and go as she pleased.

Finally she heard voices in the distance and sank to the floor her back against the bathroom door. She had not realised until that moment quite how much she wanted Lucius to come back. If Voldemort was not happy with Dolohov's account of her captor's behaviour towards her then perhaps the dark lord truly would award her to another death eater. The thought of Dolohov's body against hers caused her stomach to clench in fear and she was glad she had missed lunch so there was nothing she might bring up.

She was wound so tightly that when one of the house elves popped into the room, she gave a shriek of horror.

"Sorry Miss." The house elf stared at her with wide frightened eyes.

"It's ok." Hermione managed to stutter, "I'm just a little nervous that's all."

The house elf looked nervous as well, she realised - she was twisting her tiny hands in the pillowcase she wore.

"The master is asking the Miss to join him in the drawing room. He has visitors, very important visitors." She opened her eyes wide as if trying to communicate a dark and terrifying secret. Hermione nodded her understating.

"Of course. I'll go straight down."

It was only when she tried to walk towards the door that she realised she couldn't move. No matter how hard she instructed her body to walk to the door she could not take a single step in its direction. She took a step backwards and her back hit the bathroom door. She walked to the bed and sat down. She stood up again and tried to walk to the door, once more she became immobile.

"I'm sorry." She told the house elf. "Please inform you master that I cannot leave the room, I am still under the curse he placed upon me."

The house elf pulled her ears in horror but obediently popped out of the room.

A few minutes later Hermione heard footsteps in the corridor outside. She retreated once more to the far corner of the room, twisting her fingers nervously. At least Lucius was alive, she told herself, if Voldemort were really angry he would have killed him outright. The door burst open and Lucius entered followed closely by Bellatrix, Rowle and Voldemort himself, there was no sign of Dolohov. Hermione cringed further away. She had no need to feign terror. Lucius looked as impassive and bored as ever, she found herself wondering briefly if the man was actually capable of any human emotion or if in fact the glimpses of humanity he had shown whilst in her company had been nothing more than an act.

"What is the meaning of this, mudblood?" Lucius demanded, arms folded from across the room.

"I'm sorry, Master." Hermione turned her eyes downwards. "I can't leave the room. You commanded me back to it when you were summoned."

Lucius gave a huff of amusement. "So I did." He looked over at Voldemort. "I apologise, my Lord, I cast the Imperius curse on the girl yesterday so she would not leave the room."

Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak but Voldemort placed his hand on her arm. "And why Luciusss did you use the imperius curse. I had understood from your reports that the girl was docile enough."

"She is extremely amenable whilst in my company," Lucius replied smoothly. "Unfortunately she did not take kindly to our house guest."

"So she killed him!" Bellatrix interrupted. "The little bitch killed Antonin." She walked around the bed to pin Hermione against the wall with terrifying ferocity and startling strength. Hermione gasped with fear but didn't struggle. Behind her Lucius cleared his throat politely.

"I don't wish to contradict, Bella, but I'm afraid that is impossible." Bellatrix did not appear to hear him but Voldemort did.

"And why is that, Luciusss?"

"Because I specifically commanded Miss Granger, using the Imperius curse, not to harm Antonin. Whilst she may have wished him dead she could not have actually killed him."

Hermione felt the brush of Voldemort's mind against her own. Subtle this time, very subtle. She allowed him to see everything, Dolhov taking her food, she stabbing him with the fork, his attempt to rape her, Lucius' savage retribution, her own punishment. Only the dried leaves she kept locked away, tucked between the pages of a book where he would never find them. Voldemort nodded imperceptibly.

"Put her down Bellatrix." He commanded.

Hissing in a frighteningly snakelike manner Bellatrix dropped her hand from Hermione's throat before retreating a few steps. Hermione sagged in relief, then stiffened with terror as Voldemort himself came closer.

"You believe she cannot resist the curse Luciusss?"

"She has given me no cause to indicate otherwise My Lord."

"Show me your arm girl." Hermione pulled up the sleeve of her top to show him her right arm. "Show me the other one." Voldemort's voice was dangerously low. She pulled up the other sleeve to reveal the silvery scar, the letters Bellatrix had carved in her arm still easily legible.

"Bella, do you still have that charming little knife?"

"Of course, my Lord." The excitement in the witches voice was almost sexual in nature.

"Ensure she doesn't fidget Luciusss."

Hermione felt the bonds of the Imperius settle around her once more even as he spoke.

"You will not move, Miss Granger."

She fought against it this time, with all her might as Bella and that hated silver blade moved closer and closer to her. She could see the tip glinting could feel the knife carving into her flesh. She pushed as hard as she could against the iron will that held her still, sweat stood out on her brow but she was still held fast. The knife was almost touching her when she heard a new voice.

"A moment, Bella."

Bellatrix hesitated, the knife dangling precariously over Hermione's arm.

"My Lord." It was Rowle who had spoken. "Whilst I would enjoy seeing the mudblood tortured as much as anyone we must remember her primary purpose."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow and Hermione wondered if Rowle would be obliterated for daring to speak. Clearly Rowle's cache with the Dark Lord was reasonably high for Voldemort simply inclined his head.

"Go on."

"The public are excited at the prospect of the marriage between the mudblood and Lucius. We have seen a dramatic drop in acts of vandalism and terrorism since the engagement was announced, the press has met with a positive response and so many applications have been made to attend the ministry for the post wedding parade that we've had to hire new staff to process them. Personally I feel it would be better if Miss Granger," he inclined his head briefly in Hermione's direction, "remained intact, at least until after the wedding."

"But she killed Antonin." Bella grabbed Hermione's arm and made to bring the knife down. Unable to move Hermione could only cringe mentally.

"Stop, Bella." Voldemort's voice brooked no argument. "Thorfin has a point and there is no evidence to suggest that Miss Granger is responsible for Antonin's death."

"Lucius then." Bella spat. "Don't you think it's just a little too convenient that Antonin drops down dead after forty-eight hours in Malfoy Manor, before he has a chance to even give his report?"

Lucius raised his wand. "I would think very carefully before you start flinging accusations, dear sister." His voice dripped with malice. "My Lord, while I cannot claim to feel anything but relief at the death of Antonin, I assure you his demise was not by my hand."

"I know that, Luciusss." Voldemort regarded Malfoy with his reptilian gaze, his head cocked to one side. "It seems, Miss Granger, that you are granted a reprise. We shall see you at the ministry where you would do well to convince your adoring public that you are more than happy to be the bride of a death eater." Hermione swallowed hard but bit back any response which might have been forthcoming.

She watched as Voldemort, Bella and Rowle filed out of the room, Bella shooting both herself and Lucius an angry look before she left. Rowle paused to shake Lucius' hand.

"I shall see you on Saturday."

Something seemed to pass between the two men before Lucius nodded his head and squeezed Rowle's hand in response.

Hermione jumped slightly as she heard three pops of apparition from the hallway. She wished she could slump down onto the floor, her legs were shaking and she feared that they would not be able to hold her weight much longer. Unfortunately she was still held firmly in place by the Imperius curse. Lucius was standing on the far side of the bedroom tapping the silver top of his cane against his lips a faraway look in his eyes.

"Come here, Miss Granger." He made a beckoning motion which she was powerless to resist. She crossed the room to stand in front of him.

"Closer." He commanded. She obeyed, moving forwards until the loose fabric of his robes brushed against her legs and her breasts almost touched his chest. His scent engulfed her. It was subtle masculine, alluring. She pushed the thought away and tilted her chin up to look defiantly up at him. He bent his head towards hers.

"Now kiss me."

She gave an involuntary start at the command, it was entirely unexpected and she responded angrily, trying once more to throw off the curse. She succeeded in hesitating only for a fraction of a second before her will failed and she stood on tiptoes to press her closed mouth briefly against his warm lips.

"Not like that." His voice was low, seductive. "Kiss me like you mean it."

Her resistance was even shorter lived this time, she had exhausted herself mentally already but tried to convey some of her rage through her eyes before pressing her body against his. Her arms twined up around his neck, one hand creeping into the silky hair as she pressed her lips ardently against his, moaning into his mouth as he opened against her. He pulled her even closer, his cane still bunched in his fist but the other hand open, palm smoothing over her back, her ribcage, her backside. The warmth of the Imperius eclipsed everything for Hermione. Somewhere far away she knew that she was angry with him for taking advantage of her but the curse took away her power to resist or even care. She could feel Lucius' own desire pulsing through his magic and they seemed to be caught in a feedback loop of arousal. She pressed harder against him, her pelvis grinding into his as she nipped daringly at his bottom lip.

Lucius pulled away just a fraction, just enough to part their lips and for him to murmur "finite incantatum." Hermione felt as though a bucket of ice cold water had just been dumped over her head. The warm fuzzy feeling of the imperius was gone and she was left pressed wantonly against Lucius, his hair fisted between her fingers, lips once more pressed to his, her body no less aroused than it had been when she had been compelled to kiss him but her mind was suddenly, painfully free. She forced herself to pull away. Angrily pushing at his chest and wiping a hand across her mouth.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded, taking several steps away from him.

"I wished to see if you truly were incapable of fighting off the imperius curse. It seems that even your impressive mind control has its limits."

He gave a smug half smile and then regarded her steadily; the effect of his cool gaze only a little marred by his slightly elevated respiratory rate and the fact that his lips were swollen from her kisses. Apparently indecisive, he toyed with the cane in his hand for several moments, his eyes flicking from its snake topped head to her own a few times before he seemed to come to some sort of decision. He sighed heavily.

"Good night, Miss Granger." He turned and left the room without further explanation, leaving Hermione to stare after him in confusion and anger.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi everyone. As always thank you so much for all the lovely reviews. I think the last chapter might have been my favourite too….until now! I would like to dedicate this chapter to Silverlioness and Zeeksmom both of whom tirelessly review but who have been longing for something more between Hermione and Lucius.**

 **Thank you to Planless for editing this for me, it's a lovely feeling knowing another pair of eyes will pick up my glaring errors!**

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She had killed a man. She Hermione Granger, daughter of dentists, scholar, and know it all had killed a man. There was no point in disassembling. No amount of sophistry would change the crux of what she had done. She had poisoned her own food knowing that Dolohov would take it from her. It didn't matter that she had managed to work around the confines of the imperius curse. Her own cleverness brought little comfort as she tried and failed to sleep at night.

Knowing that she had fooled even Lord Voldemort had initially filled her with a sense of elation. She had felt her blood pounding with a wild feral triumph in the knowledge that she had quite literally gotten away with murder. Then the nausea had come .

After all what had she truly known of Dolohov? Of course he had killed her friends but their killings had been an act of war. Had he truly been an evil person? Who was she, now a killer too, to stand in judgement of another human being? Did he have a wife? A child? Was there a small dark haired daughter standing at the garden gait waiting for daddy to come home? She could not bear to contemplate these questions.

She pushed the dark thoughts away, locked them in her safe room and refused to examine them any further. They brought her no comfort and her questions were doomed to go unanswered. Try as she might to dampen down her turmoil, wave after wave of feelings welled up and threatened to tear down her barricade. In spite of her Occlumency, she was swamped in raw emotions.

She knew that Lucius suspected her culpability. Of course he would not voice his suspicions. He would continue his own bizarre form of Occlumency in order to protect them both but she could tell from the way he looked at her that he sensed her guilt. He would not allow himself to make the mental connections which would condemn them both but his feelings towards her must have changed. She was no longer an innocent victim but a killer just like the death eaters she hated.

Hermione's response to Dolohov's death had shocked her. She had seen herself as a soldier, battle hardened and ready, prepared to do anything, sacrifice anything for her cause. Now her previous naivety shocked her. Of course she, who could not even kill a spider, could not callously take another's life without paying the mental price. What frightened her now was that she knew she had no choice but to kill again. Nagini, Bellatrix, even Lucius if necessary, no life could be spared if it would aid her on her mission to finally rid the world of Voldemort.

Killing Dolohov had made her feel briefly powerful. As if she could draw up a list of death eaters and tick them off one by one. In the days that followed, the feeling faded. The house was quiet once more. No other house guest was sent to spy on them but Thorfin Rowle came to visit several times. Taking the occasional meal with them, he treated Hermione like part of the furniture, neither acknowledging nor abusing her, and she paid him the same courtesy. When he was present she made sure to behave in the most obsequious manner possible towards Lucius. She had no idea if the charade was believed or not but as far as she knew, Lucius had not been summoned and Voldemort had not visited Malfoy Manor again.

Hermione's feeling of hopelessness only intensified as their wedding grew inexorably closer. She had put the proposed union from her mind over the last month. Truly believing that by the time her wedding day came she would have come up with a plan to kill Nagini, she had not allowed herself to contemplate the significance of the day itself. Slowly though, she had been forced to realise that she was no closer to killing the snake than she had been a month ago, her ability with wandless magic amounting to little more than an impressive parlour trick. She dared not show her hand at the wedding, because deep down she knew her skills were insufficient and she would only succeed in getting herself killed. She had finally admitted to herself that she had no option other than to marry Lucius Malfoy.

For his part, Lucius seemed equally resigned to his fate. He had treated her with cool courtesy ever since Dolohov's death. It was almost as if the nights spent in her bed had never happened and their strange kiss had never taken place. If he had any feelings regarding their impending union he did not share them with Hermione.

He had not abandoned the task he had set himself though. He spent much more than the assigned hour per day staring into a candle in the library. She had never seen anybody apply themselves to any task with such intensity. She had contemplated trying to help him to take things further, to use the skills he must have acquired to fortify his own mind against Voldemort but she feared she lacked the ability to help him. Hermione was a model student, she had little experience as a teacher.

Inertia seemed to overwhelm them both and quite before she knew what was happening it was the day before their wedding. She and Lucius had run that morning in complete silence as had become their wont. Hermione had returned to her bedroom and was readying herself for the day when a firm knock came.

She had only just finished showering and quickly pulled on a sweatshirt before opening the door. It could only have been Malfoy. The house elves had a complete disregard for her privacy, apparating in and out of her room at will. Nonetheless she was surprised to see him standing in the doorway of her bedroom. He had not entered the room since the night he had slept there for her own protection. She was immediately overcome with a mixture of memories, his large body pressed against hers, his lips against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin, the warmth of his heart beating beneath her palm and his tangled hair on her pillow. She swallowed and gazed up at him, her chest pounding.

"I have something for you Miss Granger."

She realised he was holding a large, white cardboard box which he now offered to her. She reached out tentatively to take it, flinching away as their hands touched.

"What is it?"

He would not meet her eyes. "It's a wedding dress. It has been in the family for several generations, all Malfoy brides are expected to wear it."

Hermione swallowed again before she answered. "I don't think it will fit me then. Narcissa and I were not similar in shape."

"The house elves will assist you. You will find that it assumes your shape."

"Oh." She chewed her lip. "Mr Malfoy, I'm not a real Malfoy bride. I don't think this is really appropriate, do you?" She gestured vaguely with the box she still held.

He almost smiled. "You are hardly a figment of my imagination."

"No, but...neither of us have chosen this union. Surely you feel you have been tarnished enough by your association with me without me sullying your family heirloom."

He sighed heavily. "Miss Granger, as you may have noticed our personal feelings regarding our imminent union have not been taken into account. If the Dark Lord allows us to live, then you will be my wife. As I am currently without an heir," The pain in his eyes was palpable as he said this. "you will be expected to provide one and in doing so will, as you so delicately put it, sully the entire Malfoy bloodline. Under the circumstances I hardly think you wearing the dress is much of an imposition."

Hermione winced at his words. He concealed his contempt for her so well most of the time that when he truly let it out it still stung her, especially now as her feelings towards him had grown more ambivalent.

"You are truly gracious, Mr Malfoy." She turned away from him and placed the box on the bed, unopened, before turning to face him once more. "Will that be all?"

He hesitated in the doorway is if he were about to say something more but finally he merely sighed and, giving her a short bow, turned on his heel and left.

The dress was beautiful. It had taken only thirty minutes before Hermione's resolve had broken and she had opened the box to reveal the shimmering garment. Within thirty-three minutes she was wearing it. She was still a woman after all. As soon as she had pulled the delicate fabric over her head she had felt a gentle wash of magic surround her and the dress had begun to adjust itself. Tightening over the hips and backside, shortening the narrow skirt and long sleeves, drawing in over the breasts until it fitted her like a second skin. It was deceptively simple in its cut, clinging over her breasts and hips with a slight fishtail to allow her to walk. The long sleeves hid the unsightly tattoo on her arm and the cowled back revealed the smooth skin and finely honed muscles of her shoulders and upper back.

The fabric was like nothing she had never seen before. It was silky smooth and supple and warm under her touch, almost as if the dress were alive. Although the overall impression was of a white gown when it caught the light it glowed pink and green with a strange pearlescence. It was quite the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever worn and much as she dreaded the day to follow and hated the thought of appearing in the Malfoy sacrificial shroud, a tiny part of her felt glad that if she were to parade in front of the wizarding world as the bride of death eater at least she would do so in style.

She entered the dining room that evening painfully conscious that this would be her last ever evening as Hermione Granger. The following day she would be either Hermione Malfoy or she would be dead. Neither outcome particularly appealed.

It seemed that her fiancée's thoughts had been moving in a similar direction. At her entrance Malfoy rose, slightly unsteady on his feet, raising his goblet in one hand.

"Ah, Miss Granger, my beautiful mudblood bride to be. How delightful you look this evening."

"Thank you," Hermione said dryly, taking her usual seat perpendicular to him.

"Perhaps you've had enough." She suggested mildly as he topped up his own goblet and poured her a generous glassful despite the fact that she did not usually drink.

"At least wait until we are married before you start nagging, Miss Granger." Malfoy sat back in his chair with a challenging look in his eyes. Hermione sighed and reached for her own glass. Refusing his offer of wine had been something of a point of honour with her but this evening there seemed little point in continuing. She had failed. She was really going to be forced into a marriage with Lucius Malfoy and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Getting drunk didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Their starters were served and neither of them spoke as they ate, both of them drinking steadily. Unused to alcohol Hermione began to feel a pleasantly warm sensation in her stomach.

"We're not really going to go through with this are we?" She asked suddenly, putting down her knife and fork and looking steadily at the man beside her. Malfoy put down his own cutlery and pushed his plate aside.

"I don't' really see what alternative we have Miss Granger, other than death of course."

"We could elope."

"I may not be an expert in muggle terminology but I believe elopement still generally results in marriage."

Hermione tapped her fingers on the tablecloth. "Well yes, it does, but at least we wouldn't have to endure the walk of shame through the ministry afterwards."

"Walk of shame." He tested the words in his mouth, his lips tilting up at the corners. "What a delicious phrase. Tell me Miss Granger which distresses you more, being forced into matrimony with my good self, or having to parade through the ministry afterwards, proclaiming your changed allegiance?"

"Nobody who really knows me will ever believe that I now support Vold…..the Dark Lord." Hermione said firmly, taking another sip of wine. "Of course I'm not sure that anybody who truly knows me is left so perhaps I am more upset by the public spectacle. Neither component is particularly appealing."

Their main courses appeared and they ate in silence once more.

"I tried on the dress." The words bubbled up as if from nowhere.

"And?"

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

"You are welcome. Narcissa hated it."

"Did she?"

"Oh yes. She felt it was a symbol of her supplication, that she ought to be allowed to have her own garment made to affirm her importance to the family."

"How progressive of her. Perhaps she and I had more in common than we ever knew. What a shame we never became friends."

He held her gaze levelly for a moment before sitting back in his chair once more. "Do you know how I spent the evening before my first wedding?"

"Of course not, but I'm sure you're about to enlighten me." Feeling very bold indeed and definitely slightly inebriated Hermione placed her elbow on the table and supported her head on her hand. If Malfoy was shocked at her deplorable table manners he did not admit to it.

"Well I certainly didn't spend it dining with my charming bride to be."

She wasn't sure whether he intended to insult her, Narcissa, or both of them as the malice dripped from his voice.

"Instead my father took me to a brothel so I might be divested of my virginity before I married."

"Oh!" Hermione felt her eyes go round. "Is that a family tradition?"

Malfoy's eyes glittered. "I believe so. Mind you, it was quite unnecessary in my case, my virginity was long gone. I didn't want to let the old boy down though so I went along with the ruse."

"I suppose," Hermione said, desperately trying to maintain a nonchalant attitude despite feeling rather out of her depth. "I suppose since you were about to enter into a committed and monogamous relationship it was understandable that you might want one last fling."

She frowned when Malfoy actually laughed.

"Oh my dear, how innocent you are. You really have no idea as to how a pureblood marriage works have you?"

Wordlessly Hermione shook her head.

"Narcissa and I were never faithful to each other."

"Oh." Hermione said again, feeling very much out of her depth and suddenly deeply embarrassed that her only sexual experience had been with him.

Malfoy leaned forwards so they were suddenly sitting very close to each other. "I've had a wide range of sexual experiences, Miss Granger," He told her silkily.

Hermione felt herself blush. Then to her horror he reached out and began to run his fingers gently over the back of her hand which lay unmoving on the table.

"I could teach you a great many things." His voice was hypnotic. "If you would consent to sharing my bed again, I can assure you you would find the experience most pleasurable." He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her palm. Hermione almost whimpered with pleasure and then gasped as he transferred his lips to her wrist where a pulse beat wildly. His other hand came up now too and stroked down her exposed forearm causing her to gasp again and her nipples to tighten underneath her dress.

She could not quite believe the responses of her body. She knew that Malfoy's attraction for her had been gradually growing over the last few weeks. She had stopped looking at him as her enemy and had begun to see him as a man, an attractive man. She had imagined what it would be like when they slept together again and now she found her curiosity desperately piqued. The offer in Malfoy's eyes was blatantly clear and she suddenly longed to accept it. She might die the very next day or be given to another death eater. Her next sexual experience might be forced upon her at the hands of a man she hated. Would it be so wrong to enjoy one night with this man because she chose to?

Malfoy seemed to sense her indecision and her weakness, for his gaze grew calculating and with a swift pull her yanked her body into his lap.

Hermione was overwhelmed by sensation. Primarily that of warm, solid man pressed against her. He smelled good. Really good, like rosemary and expensive cologne and wine and...man. She was sprawled across his lap and used the moment of confusion as he righted her to bury her nose against his neck and inhale deeply.

This is wrong. She heard a voice in her head but then he was kissing her and she didn't care whether it was wrong or not because it felt so right. In fact it was the first time she had felt anything in such a long time. It felt better than right, it felt amazing. He was not as gentle as he had been before. His lips were hard, demanding against hers and she sat up in his arms, kissing him back, pushing her fingers into his hair to hold his head against hers. He moaned his approval against her mouth and bit at her lower lip until she understood what he wanted and opened her mouth to allow him access. His tongue tasted her, gently, then more insistently as she responded to his touch. She removed one had from his silky hair and explored the planes of his broad shoulders, stroked the back of his neck and down his arm before her hand tentatively slipped its way inside his robes to press against his shirt underneath which his heartbeat pounded.

The exploration had not been one sided. Malfoy had one hand cupped over her backside, pulling her against the erection which she could already feel swelling through his trousers. The other had skimmed across her ribcage and was now splayed just below her breast. Hermione arched wantonly towards it, longing for him to stroke her as he had done before. Instead he pulled away.

"Enough." He groaned. His eyes were slightly glazed, his lips swollen. Tightening an arm around her waist he reached downwards and grasped his cane. Hermione only had time to clutch hold of his shoulders before she felt the crush of apparition.

They landed on something soft and she realised quickly that he had apparated them into his bedroom. She was sprawled across his chest on the dark brown silk bed sheets and she wasted no time in wriggling around until she lay fully on top of him, staring down into his grey eyes. His hands clasped the sides of her head and he pulled her down into another searing kiss. Hermione relished the feeling of her body pressed completely against his from chest to toe. His cock was digging into her belly and she rubbed herself against it as she kissed him back her own tongue darting nervously against his.

Seconds later he had rolled her over so she lay beneath him, pinned to the bed by his weight. His hands still gripped the sides of her face.

"You will stay here, with me, in this moment." His voice was harsh. "Do you understand me? If you leave, then I will not continue."

She reached up and placed her own hands against his cheeks. "I understand," She said softly, "I want to be here with you."

Her words seemed to light a touch paper in him. His lips were against her neck and chest as he fumbled the buttons at the front of her dress before irritably grabbing the sides of the fabric and ribbing them apart. He stared at her for a moment and Hermione felt herself blush under his scrutiny the colour staining not just her cheeks but her neck and chest too. His fingers, trembling slightly, traced the curves of her breasts above the silk of her bra before he reached behind her and undid the clip. He pulled the fabric away and lowered his mouth to her nipple sucking both the peak and the areola into his mouth and swirling his tongue around them until she cried out, pushing herself against him and holding onto his hair once more. He turned his attention to the other breast, biting at this one whilst his fingers toyed with the still damp nipple he had abandoned. Hermione was almost wild with desire, bucking beneath him and groping desperately at his body trying to get her hands on his cock.

He knelt up over her and, smirking as he took in her flushed face and accelerated breathing, quickly removed his robes and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Let me!"

She surprised herself with the words but quickly knelt up in front of him, her shaking fingers barely able to undo the stiff buttons. He watched her patiently as she worked her way down then imperiously held out his wrists for her to unfasten his cufflinks. Finally the task was finished and she shimmied a little closer, deliberately pressing her breasts against his chest as she slid his shirt down his arms. He smiled wolfishly and she felt his lips against her neck as she nervously reached for the buttons at his fly. They were even more difficult to undo because his erection was tenting out the fabric, straining against the fastenings. She gave a mewl of frustration as he continued to tease her with his lips and teeth.

Eventually he gently pushed her hands away and stood up. She watched, lower lip firmly clamped between her teeth as he removed his trousers and boxers in one and stooped to take off his shoes and socks. Glancing down Hermione realised she was now clad only in her knickers and the pair of ballet pumps she had pulled on before going down to dinner. She quickly toed off the shoes and hesitated, fingers poised at the waist band of her knickers. She didn't want to appear too presumptive.

"Allow me." Lucius' tone was silky as he hooked his fingers into the elastic and slid her knickers down her legs.

He moved away from her, climbing onto the bed and settling himself propped against the headboard, his cock jutting upwards from his thighs. He crooked a finger imperiously at Hermione and she crawled up the bed towards him, by this point completely unashamed of her own nakedness. He settled her in his lap once more. Straddling his legs her sex pressed against his cock as he pulled her towards him and began to kiss her again. She quickly found that this new position afforded more pleasure than any of their previous embraces . Now, their naked torsos were pressed together and Hermione rubbed her sensitive nipples across his chest enjoying the slight abrasion. Her fingers skittered down his abdomen to rest just inches from his engorged member.

She pulled her mouth away from his for a moment. "Can I touch it?" She was surprised at the breathiness of her voice.

"Be my guest." In comparison his voice was low and he gasped as her eager fingers closed around his cock. She had never really imagined what a penis would feel like before. Or perhaps she had simply taken for granted that it would feel like any other part of the body. It didn't. It was hot beneath her fingers, the skin silky smooth but the underlying organ incredibly hard. She moved her hand experimentally and Lucius groaned. He reached between them and placed his warm fingers over her hand, demonstrating how he liked to be stroked. Hermione tentatively complied and he groaned again, raising his hips and thrusting against her hand. She watched his eyes drift shut, his lips parted with pleasure. Then he was placing his hand over hers once more but this time to still her.

"Much as it would excite me to spill myself all over your hand, I had something a little more refined planned." His silky voice sent spears of pleasure straight to Hermione's sex and she unconsciously rubbed the parted lips of her pussy against the fingers which he still had around the base of his cock.

With one hand he lifted her slightly, angling her hips, with the other he guided his cock until it sat just beneath her hungry lips. They both stilled staring into each other's eyes.

"What are you going to do now, Miss Granger?"

In answer to his question she placed her hands on his shoulders and tentatively began to lower herself down onto him. He was big, she had forgotten how big and he stretched her as she slid down him. There was some pain but it was superseded by pleasure and she continued her agonisingly slow descent until he was fully engulfed in her and, looking down, she could only see her brown curls juxtaposed against his blond. She felt gloriously, terrifyingly, wonderfully full. As if his cock might explode out of her abdomen at any moment.

Lucius' gaze followed hers, down to where their bodies were conjoined, and he splayed a hand across her belly.

"Now tell me you like it." His lips were close to hers again as he lent forward off of the headboard. "Tell me how much you like having my cock buried deep inside you."

"I love it." Hermione heard a breathless, helpless voice that could not be hers.

Arrows of sensation were emanating from within, making their way to her clit which was throbbing in anticipation. Her nipples felt tight and hot and tender and beads of sweat were breaking out all over her body. Simply unable to ignore her own desires she moved her hips against his. To her surprise and gratification Lucius' eyes almost rolled back in his head as he gave another low groan of desire.

"Oh yes," He murmured, his fingers grasping her hips, "show me what you can do."

She took that as an invitation to keep moving, enthralled by the affect the slightest motion seemed to have on Lucius. She started with a gentle back and forth rocking, gasping with pleasure as she ground her clit against his hard abdomen. As she grew braver and his cock began to feel less terrifying, her movements increased in pace and before long she was sliding up and down the full length of him, his hands on her hips encouraging the movements. She felt something swelling and tightening inside her and redoubled her efforts, tilting her pelvis in search of further friction. Just when she thought that she couldn't take any more and that she might actually die from the need to come Lucius leaned forwards and took her nipple in his mouth once more, sucking hard enough to send a stab of pain straight down to her belly and causing her to erupt, thrashing around him as she came. This time she screamed his name as she clutched desperately at his shoulders her fingers digging in to his silky skin, her mouth gaping incoherently as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her. It was too much, too personal, she was too exposed on her knees before him, his member still buried deep inside her. She longed to hide herself away from the look of intense triumph in his grey eyes but he refused to give her any quarter, his lips moving from her breast back to her mouth as he kissed her hard thrusting up into her once more.

She was still gasping for air when he tipped her off of his lap, pulling out of her as he did so. His cock was still huge and erect and she stared at it almost in horror as he positioned her pliable body on its hands and knees.

"What are you doing?" She only just had a chance to gasp out the words before he came around behind her and thrust himself back inside her still fasiculating walls. She shrieked as he began to pound into her sensitive sex. Then she felt his fingers unerringly find her clit and begin to massage the tender bundle of nerves.

"No Lucius, I can't!" She heard herself whimpering as he continued to pound into her, never missing a stroke as his fingers worked her clit.

"Yes, you can."

The fingers of his other hand gripped her hip so hard she knew there would be bruises the following day. To her surprise she felt the pressure building once more. Her whole body was on fire, sweat trickled between her breasts and all she could think about was the exquisite sensation between her legs as he moved inside her. The orgasm, almost painful in its intensity, hit her hard and she screamed helplessly as she came again. His strokes didn't falter. If anything they increased in their intensity as he fucked her through her orgasm and almost immediately she felt another one start to build.

"No, no, no." She tried to crawl away from him up the bed. She truly believed that if she came again she might die.

"I don't think so."

Lucius' hands were vice like at her hips. Abruptly he reached down and pulled her legs form under her so she lay flat on the bed pinned down by the weight of his body, her legs trapped between his. He began to thrust even harder and she cried out into the pillow as every stroke pushed her abused clit against the bed sheets. She was gasping, crying out for air and then just crying as her final orgasm took her and she bit down hard on the pillow her body contracting around his. She went limp then, submitting completely to him and his strokes became erratic and uncoordinated before with a final thrust, which sent her sliding up the bed, she felt him ejaculating inside her, felt his warmth deep against her core.

He collapsed on top of her, still inside her, his weight strangely welcome even though they were both sweaty and sticky. She could feel his heart pounding against her back. After a moment he rolled to one side, one arm remaining firmly around her waist.

"Did I hurt you?" She had never heard him sound so unsure and she realised the hand on her waist was trembling.

"Yes." She replied honestly.

"I'm sorry I lost control..."

"I liked it." She interrupted.

They lay together in the growing darkness. Hermione knew she should get up and return to her own room but her body was boneless with pleasure and Lucius' arm remained wrapped around her waist, a taciturn command to remain where she was. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

She woke up aching and disorientated the following morning. Her first coherent thought was that this was her wedding day. What a strange concept. The next was that there was something seriously wrong with her hair. Glancing down she could see a coil of flaxen blond falling over her shoulder. A wave of memories followed, bringing in their wake a slight hangover.

She and Lucius had... She couldn't even allow the thought to form although she couldn't deny that it had been spectacular. She doubted that it would be possible to have a more wonderful sexual experience. In which case, if she were to die today at least one thing was ticked off her bucket list. Lucius' arm was still wrapped securely around her waist. She wondered how she might extract herself without waking him. He had been much drunker than she, what if he was disgusted by what had happened?

Clearly he was not. She felt the soft press of his lips against the nape of her neck and his arm tightened bringing her buttocks into contact with his fully erect penis. She knew that often men woke up in this state, it didn't necessarily mean anything. She gave her backside an experimental rub against him and felt his teeth where his lips had been.

"Good morning." His tongue soothed where his teeth had abraded.

"Good morning."

She gasped has his hand travelled up to cup her breast, his fingers toying with the engorged and sensitive nipple. Then he rolled her onto her back and she felt his hair tickling her sides as he began to kiss his way down her belly.

"No, Lucius, absolutely not." She said with shock realising what he intended. She was still sticky and damp from the night before and besides nobody had ever done that to her before and...

The sweep of his tongue between the lips of her sex was enough to stop her inner monologue dead. She briefly considered occluding because the sensation was almost too glorious to bear but she couldn't tear herself away from the moment as his tongue lazily explored her. His hands were holding her hips firmly in place, she would probably have more bruises to add to the ones from the night before, and she realised her fists had once more clenched in his hair.

Glancing sideways she wished she hadn't. A full length mirror stood beside the bed and she was treated to the undoubtedly erotic image of herself naked, arching off the bed in an agony of pleasure with Lucius Malfoy's golden head buried between her thighs.

He had moved upwards his tongue trailing around but never quite touching her clit. She could feel him smile as she tightened her grip on his hair, tilting her pelvis to try and get him where she wanted him. Then he was sliding two fingers inside her, hooking them against the front of her vagina in a way that made her shake and his tongue was rubbing in little circles over her clit. She came screaming his name turning away from her wanton reflection in the mirror.

Lucius knelt between her legs a smug smile playing over his lips which glistened with her juices. He very deliberately ran his tongue over them as he watched her embarrassment war with her arousal. He picked up one of her legs and hooked it over his shoulder, surprising her by pressing a brief kiss against the arch of her foot. She stared at him in a mixture of wonder and trepidation as he lifted her hips, angled himself just so and then slammed his cock hard into her tender sex. He fucked her with short pistoning strokes which soon had her yelping in a glorious mixture of pleasure and pain.

She was helpless, unable to move against him without her leg on the bed. All she could do was stare up at him as his beautiful body flexed above her. And he was beautiful, his slate grey eyes intense as they bored into hers, his lip curled in pleasure, a bead of sweat trickling down his chest across his well defined abdominals, his blond hair flowing down his back, as perfect this morning as it had been the night before. He was a like a god, she thought. Some character straight out of Greek mythology. His strokes increased in power and she was almost relieved he did not wring another orgasm from her as he clutched her hips in both hands and pulled her tight against him. She watched his face contort as he emptied himself into her and then he was falling forwards, burying his head in her neck, his body shaking with exertion and the aftershocks of his orgasm.

She cautiously wrapped her arms around his back. The moment could not last. One of them would have to acknowledge the horror of the day to come. Finally Lucius rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she lay with her head pillowed on his chest.

"I should let you go," he said softly.

Hermione stiffened against him. He would let her go. She could be free. She could try to find someone who had survived. Or go to Australia and find her parents. Her racing thoughts stilled. Leaving would condemn Lucius to death. Was she prepared to let him die for her? Yes. A small voice in her head told her, you are. But there was more at stake than just her own needs. If she escaped then her proximity to Voldemort would be lost. Staying close to Lucius allowed her to be close the Dark Lord. And if Lucius trusted her enough to let her go maybe one day he would trust her enough to give her a wand.

"I won't leave you," she said softly.

He let out a long breath. "I will do what I can to protect you." He spoke into her hair. Hermione closed her eyes against the sudden sting of tears, not for herself but for Lucius, because she knew that when all was said and done she would not do the same for him.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Hi everyone, I'm so sorry for the delay in updating. We've had a busy weekend and the whole time I've been longing to slip away and work on my story. Sorry I haven't had time to reply to review yet but I'll catch up tonight. I really hope this chapter is OK and I promise to update again soon. As always thank you so much for your reviews, follows and favourites.**

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Finally she slipped from his room and back to her own. She ran a bath and sank into the deep fragrant water her mind awash with images. She should feel guilty for what she had done. She had voluntarily slept with a death eater, with one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters. With a man she held at least partially responsible for the death of her friends. Yet she could feel no guilt. Her life had been so uncertain over the last month and throughout her ordeal Lucius had treated her with considerably more patience than she would have expected and more kindness than she deserved. He clearly no longer abhorred her although he might hate himself a little for allowing a mudblood to worm her way into his affections. She knew that after the loss of his wife and son his loyalty to Voldemort was questionable at best. Did any of these things make the fact that she had slept with him any more justifiable? Perhaps. The honest truth was that she had desired him physically for some time now and last night she had given in to that desire. She still felt no shame.

Sometimes her life with Harry and Ron seemed like nothing more than a dream. Their relatively care free time at Hogwarts bore little resemblance to her life now and even the year spent on the run had begun to feel hazy, like an adventure lived by another girl. Lucius seemed real. When she was with him she felt like herself, not a mudblood, not the brightest witch of her age but herself, Hermione Granger. The truth was that her friends would condemn her if they knew what she had done. But dead men could not pass judgement and even if they could what right had they to question her choices? She inhabited a different landscape to the one they had lived in, the lines between friends and enemies and right and wrong had become blurred. She no longer thought Ron Weasley's strict moral code would apply as it had in the old world.

She turned her mind to what was to happen that day. Lucius would have let her leave and instead she had agreed to stay in order to try and kill Voldemort. When she allowed herself to think it out loud it sounded ridiculous. How was _she_ supposed to kill Voldemort? All she had was a half baked plan to try and kill the magical snake with a piece of wandless magic she couldn't even have managed with a wand. _Great plan Hermione, no wonder you're the brains of the golden trio_. She ran over her options once more.

Confiding in Lucius was certainly a possibility. She was fairly certain that he would be pleased to see the Dark Lord dead but she wasn't sure what practical help he could provide. His lack of occlumency meant he would be a liability as soon as they were in Voldemort's presence, she couldn't risk telling him of her plans and besides she still didn't fully trust him. She sighed and began to wash her hair. She would simply have to see what the day brought. If an opportunity arose to attack Nagini then she would take it. If not she would play the submissive captive and hope that Voldemort was willing to leave her with Lucius, she did not relish the thought of being given to one of the other death eaters.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom one of the house elves was waiting to help her dress. The little creature charmed Hermione's hair dry and did her best to tame the wild curls. They still fell just short of her jaw line, she was beginning to think that Draco's knife had been enchanted. Surely her hair should have grown back by now? The elf produced some suitably virginal looking underwear which Hermione smirked at before turning to the dress laid out on the bed.

She could feel the heavy magic settle around her as the dress constricted to fit her once more. The elf smiled reverently and ran her hands over the smooth fabric.

"Aw Mistress Hermione, you look beautiful."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled down at the diminutive creature. "Do you know what the fabric is?" She asked curiously, stroking the glimmering material.

The elf looked at her in shock. "You mean Mistress is not knowing?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, should I?"

"It is dragon skin Mistress, Malfoy brides always wears dragon skin dress."

"Dragon skin?" Hermione shook her head, thinking of Professor Snapes's utilitarian footwear. "This doesn't look like any dragon skin I've ever seen before."

The little elf smiled beatifically. "No Mistress, you are seeing male dragon skin, it is tough and good only for shoes. This," She reverently stroked the dress, "is female, white dragon, most precious and rare."

 _Of course,_ Hermione thought bitterly, _of course Malfoy brides only get married in the most rare and most cruel of fabrics._ She felt revolted by the dress now, wondering how Lucius would respond if she were to refuse to wear it. Then a sudden thought struck her so hard she had to sit on the bed. _The casting of fiendfyre and other fire related spells can be achieved with greater ease and control when the caster has in their possession a dragon related artefact._ Was this dress a magical artefact in its own right? It certainly felt magical. And if so had Lucius known? He must have.

She ran her fingers over the fabric of her skirt once more, this time echoing the reverence of the house elf. She could feel the dresses' magic permeating her body. Crossing the room to the full length mirror she gazed at herself in surprise. She had filled out a little in the month she had been with Lucius. She was still too thin, her body angular rather curvaceous but the dress gave the illusion of curves where none were truly present. Her skin was pale, her freckles still almost invisible and her shortened hair hung in soft waves around her face. Her reflection had not changed and yet there was something imperceptibly different about her. Her eyes were brighter, her skin more luminous, her mouth a little less pinched. She wondered if the dress imbued its wearer with a kind of radiance.

"Mistress?" Bitsy interrupted her reverie.

She looked down at the elf.

"This is also being for you Mistress."

The tiny creature handed her a bouquet. It was no ordinary bunch of flowers though. The entire bouquet was fashioned from hundreds of broaches, fashioned to create an almost spherical arrangement. They were predominately inlaid with pearls and diamonds but scattered coloured stones sparkled within and the occasional butterfly or bird shaped piece was elevated above the surface of the sphere, giving the impression that they had alighted on the delicate jewel flowers in order to taste their nectar. It was the most exquisite and the most ostentatious thing she had ever seen. Had she been elsewhere she would have assumed that the jewels were paste but here in Malfoy Manor she knew that this was not the case.

"It's beautiful." She said softly, turning the handle carefully to admire the bouquet in its entirety. The elf beamed up at her.

"Let me guess." Hermione smiled down, "It's another Malfoy heirloom?"

"Oh no Mistress." The elf looked almost indignant. "The Master is choosing this himself for Mistress."

Hermione stared at Bitsy for several seconds, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the handle of the bouquet. It didn't mean anything she told herself. Lucius Malfoy had more money than sense. This gift was the equivalent of picking a bunch of flowers to him. She bit her lip as she realised that had he picked her a bunch of flowers she would have been equally happy. She carefully laid the beautiful bouquet on her bed, turning away from her reflection.

"Bitsy might I have a moment alone please."

"Of course Mistress." The elf bowed her way out of the door.

Hermione slumped on the bed, her mind a whirl. Too much had happened in too short a time and she was struggling to assimilate all of the information. Her relationship with Lucius had changed irrevocably with her actions of the night before. But he must have purchased the bouquet before she had slept with him so there was no way he considered it payment for services rendered. She stroked the handle thoughtfully. Misguided as he may be she suspected that Lucius had feelings for her. The man was no fool. He had shown her the fiendfyre, he had given her the book and the dress. Whether he allowed himself to think about it or not he must know what he was enabling her to do. She could not understand his motivations. Was he helping her out of genuine affection or a need for revenge?

She sighed. She had not the resources to answer any of the questions. Everything that had happened continued to whirl around her brain. At the forefront was the question she dare not answer, how did she feel about Lucius?

She was running out of time. She had to find out if her suspicions regarding the dress were correct. Glancing cautiously at the door Hermione raised a hand and summoned her bluebell flames. She was completely unprepared for the massive ball of blue fire which appeared out of nowhere and shot towards her at a rapid rate, crackling loudly and expelling so much heat she was forced to lift both hands in order to protect her face. The protective gesture flung the ball away from her where it crashed into the window on the opposite wall smashing the glass and taking out half of the window frame as it exploded loudly just outside the manor.

Hermione stood shocked and panting her ears ringing as the dust slowly began to settle. Several gentle pops sounded around her as concerned house elves began to appear staring at the hole and at Hermione in horror. The door behind her flew open and Lucius burst into the room his look of concern turning to one of fury as he viewed the exploded window frame.

"What have you done to my house?" He roared at Hermione who flinched away from him in fear.

"I'm so sorry, Lucius, I didn't mean to." _Think Hermione, think._ "It was involuntary magic." She blurted the first words that came into her head, the words tumbling over each other as she ran with the lie. "I was feeling nervous about today and then I put on the dress and then before I knew it, I blew up the window. I'm so sorry." She moved towards him despite her fear and placed her hands on his chest in a placatory fashion. To her immense surprise and relief he reacted as soon as she touched him. His whole manner softened and he automatically placed his arms around her shoulders.

"Involuntary magic." He said softly. His eyes flicked once more to the hole in the wall which was now allowing cold air to seep into the room

He turned back , regarding her thoughtfully. "Well I suppose a powerful witch who is prevented from using magic for five months might be prone to outbursts." He held her at arms length. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "No, just surprised." At least that was honest.

His fingers splayed across her back. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Hermione swallowed nervously, wondering if she really had got away with producing the fireball so easily.

Apparently she had. Lucius instructed the elves to have the mess cleaned up before they returned and, taking Hermione's hand, apparated her to central London. He had placed a disillusionment spell over them both as they would need to walk through muggle London to reach the ministry visitors entrance. Hermione stared around in surprise as they walked. Knowing the death eaters had won the war she had automatically assumed that the entire world had changed, but everything looked completely normal. Muggles went about their day to day business completely oblivious to the death eater in their midst. Lucius observed her stare.

"The Dark Lord believes our forces are insufficient to conquer the muggles at this point." He said quietly. "He plans to wait until his army is stronger before attacking them. He has high hopes that recruitment will increase once the population see that a muggle born such as yourself has become one of the Dark Lord's staunchest supporters."

Hermione shivered but didn't respond and Lucius looked down at her with a grim look.

"I hope I need not remind you that both of our safety depends on your ability to act once we are inside. Please make an attempt to play the devoted wife, whatever your true feelings may be."

"I know." Hermione snapped. "Terrified slave in front of The Dark Lord, devoted wife in front of the public. I know what I have to do."

"You'd better."

Lucius tightened his grip on her upper arm and pulled her into the telephone box outside the ministry.

The lift took them down to the atrium and they stepped out. Hermione gasped, the great space was completely deserted.

"After our wedding the public will be allowed to assemble to see us exiting the court room." Lucius explained, his hand still uncomfortably tight around her arm. "We're to stand in front of the statue." He pointed to a large statue of Voldemort, "and share a passionate kiss. Before presumably departing on our honeymoon."

Hermione glanced up at him. His face was completely expressionless. She found it hard to believe that this was the same man who had shuddered in her arms only a few short hours ago. He certainly didn't seem to be overjoyed at the idea of kissing her now.

"How romantic." She said softly.

Lucius didn't respond. Instead he led her towards the stairwell and they began to descend down towards the tenth floor. Hermione gave him a curious look as they passed the exit to the department of mysteries. She wondered if he would acknowledge their shared history there but he ignored it and her completely, his face resolute as he continued down the stairs. Hermione focused on clearing her own mind. She tucked her secrets away in her safe room casting a fog of fear, nerves and supplication through the shelves of her library. It was not difficult to do, the last time she had been in Voldemort's presence he had almost allowed Bellatrix to carve obscenities into her other arm, it was not an experience she had any desire to repeat.

"Lucius?"

He was a couple of steps below her and looked up impatiently at her as she stopped. Slightly unsteady in her heels she carefully climbed down to stand beside him.

"Thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful." She gestured at the bouquet she had retrieved from the rubble in her bedroom. Lucius glanced down at it, he studiously avoided her eyes but Hermione thought she detected a stain of pink across his cheeks.

"You're welcome." He began to descend the stairs once more.

Hermione was surprised to be met at the bottom of the stairs by two witches one blonde and one with red hair. They both kissed Lucius, fussing over his robes and hair. Hermione felt a spark of jealousy. _How dare they touch him?_ She thought angrily. _If anybody should be adjusting his cravat it ought to be me_. She realised the absurdity of her train of thought moments later.

"Don't you look handsome. And here's your little _pet."_ The red headed witch turned to Hermione with revulsion in her eyes. Hermione kept her own gaze downcast.

"Indeed." Lucius said. "Louisa, Estella this is my fiancée Hermione. Hermione this is Mrs Yaxley and Mrs Nott."

Hermione dropped a low curtsy to the two witches who cackled in glee.

"Why Lucius she is very submissive, what have you been doing to the poor girl?" They didn't look in the slightest shocked at whatever methods they imagined he had used to subdue her. On the contrary a cruel gleam was present in the eyes of Mrs Yaxley as she strolled around Hermione examining her from all angles.

"I can't believe you have allowed it to wear Cissy's dress Lucius."

"The public will expect it." Lucius said dismissively, "and the dress can be cleaned."

Hermione clenched her fists as a wave of anger shot through her. She was surprised when Lucius' fingers ghosted across the skin of her lower back. The two witches didn't seem to notice the gesture and the blond stepped closer to grip Hermione's upper arm, why did everyone feel the need to grab the same spot, it was starting to hurt?

"You're to go inside Lucius. We will take care of the mudblood until the ceremony is about to start."

"Very well." Lucius did not even look at Hermione as he turned and swept through the doorway of the nearest court room.

Hermione looked at the two witches before her from beneath her lowered lashes. Thoughts of escape flickered in her mind. The power she had wielded this morning had been immense. Could she subdue her captors and make it back up into the atrium? Surely there had to be somebody in the entire ministry willing to help her. Then she noticed that both witches held their wands loosely in their hands, their eyes alert as they regarded her and she remembered her mission. To destroy Nagini and that could only be done by facing Voldemort.

She was relieved when the two witches ignored her, whispering and giggling between themselves until finally one of them raised her head as if to heed and unknown sign.

"It's time." She said. "Come along mudblood." She took hold of Hermione's upper arm once more and led her towards the doors to the courtroom. Hermione was ushered through and as soon as the doors closed behind her the two witches hurried off to find their seats leaving Hermione alone on the floor.

She was in a circular courtroom, the only break in the circle being the door she had come through. The floor was covered with flagstones and extending up from it were row after row of wooden benches, reaching almost to the ceiling. Almost all of the benches were full. Many of the spectators wore death eater robes but others, the woman in particular were dressed in stylish clothing, as if for a celebration. Hermione recognised the room from Harry's description. This was one of the courtrooms which had been used for interrogations during the war. What an inauspicious place to hold a wedding.

Her gaze was reluctantly drawn from the spectators to the floor in front of her where Lucius stood next to an older man in flowing purple robes who she guessed must be the celebrant. Next to her fiancée stood Voldemort, of the snake there was no sign. Hermione's heart rate accelerated and she fought to calm herself as she felt the brush of the dark lord's mind against her own. Her fear was genuine and she felt him retreat quickly after he had tasted a sample. She fixed her eyes on Lucius. His familiar face seemed like a haven amongst the overwhelming animosity she felt from the assembled wedding guests. The room around her was spinning and she thought for a moment she might faint.

The moment passed and, clutching her jewel bouquet as if her life depended on it she made her way slowly to stand beside her fiancée. The celebrant seemed completely unaware of the tension that surrounded them. He beamed at the couple with as much joy as the priest who had married Bill and Fleur what felt like a lifetime ago. He was oblivious to the fact that Lucius stared ahead with stony determination and Hermione was trembling like a leaf as he began to recite their vows. After a few moments he extolled them to join their hands. Hermione placed her hand, freezing cold and shaking into Lucius' warm one as she recited her own vows. She was surprised to feel his thumb stroke comfortingly over the fleshy base of hers, her eyes flew to his and she stumbled on the words, but his face was as implacable as ever. Lucius repeated his own vows in his clipped and aristocratic tone as if he were ordering off a restaurant menu. Before Hermione quite knew what was happening he had released her hand and was sliding an ornate ring onto the appropriate finger.

Hermione almost pulled her hand away in shock. The ring was made up of a silver snake which coiled around her finger, raising its head to hiss venomously at her before it settled down and closed its jewelled eyes. It was exactly the sort of ring she would have imagined a Slytherin bestowing on his bride and she gave Lucius a brief look of indignation. She almost thought a smile ghosted across his pale face before he looked back towards the celebrant.

"It gives me great pleasure to pronounce you man and wife." The celebrant said fondly. "You may now kiss the bride." Neither of them moved and the celebrant cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time. "Indeed you must kiss the bride for the magical binding to be complete."

Lucius rolled his eyes but bent forward obligingly. He cupped Hermione's face in his hand and pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth. The kiss was brief, cold and perfunctory but his fingers caressed her jaw beneath her hair before he pulled away. The assembled spectators broke into raucous applause and Hermione looked around at them all through her lashes. _What on earth were they cheering for?_ She wondered. One of their kind had just been forced into the ultimate humiliation, were they so foolish as to think that the fate of Lucius would not easily also be theirs?

As she looked around Hermione caught a glimpse of movement at floor level. Just beneath the first set of seats, moving sinuously across the floor towards her master was Nagini. Hermione felt her pulse accelerate once more and quickly fortified her occlumency shields. Voldemort was talking to Lucius who still held her hand loosely clasped in his. She could not cast the fiendfyre here, she would incinerate herself.

For the first time in Hermione didn't know how long it appeared that fate was smiling on her. From out of nowhere Yaxley appeared next to Lucius and Voldemort and leaned in to address them both. Hermione couldn't quite hear what was said but Voldemort was clearly displeased and hissed something at Lucius who turned to her.

"Wait by the door. We have some important matters to discuss before the parade."

He released her hand and Hermione cautiously made her way to the entrance, noticing that all the other revellers remained seated and were glancing curiously at Lucius, Voldemort and Yaxley who were deep in conversation. The snake had reached Voldemort's ankles and was resting her head affectionately on his foot.

Now was the opportunity she had been waiting for. Yet Hermione hesitated realising from the alignment of the room that if she were successful in summoning the fiendfyre the exit would be blocked and everybody, bar her would be trapped behind the lethal magical flames. Everybody including Lucius. Unconsciously her eyes sought his. For a long time he didn't seem to notice eventually he looked up, his gaze meeting hers. He inclined his head just a fraction of an inch. The gesture was miniscule but to Hermione's mind he might as well have raised a signal flag.

She drew in her will, feeling the magic of the dress shimmer around her and began to concentrate as she felt her magic swirl and coalesce inside her somewhere in the region of her heart. She focused on her hatred of Voldemort, of the assembled death eaters. She brought to the front of her mind every shred of anger she had ever experienced and focused it all on the fire she would create. Heat was coursing through her veins, it felt as if her blood were boiling and her heart might burst from her chest at any moment. When it felt as if she could not contain the raw energy within her a moment longer she flexed her fingers and murmured 'incendio.' She did not feel the soft warmth of the bluebell flames. Instead the palm of her right hand grew cold as the rest of her body was suffused with heat. At first she thought nothing had happened. The crowd continued to chatter and stare at Voldemort, no flames sprang forth, all she felt was the strange chill in her palm.

A flicker of greenish flame whispered across the stones towards Nagini, almost translucent and so faint as to not be noticed by any of the crowd who were ignoring her completely. She opened her hand further and felt the heat rising in her body, pulsing in time with her heart. The fiendfyre erupted in front of her.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Half of the floor was instantly consumed by glowing green flames within which a myriad of snarling magical beasts fought for supremacy. Hermione could make out a giant snake, a dragon, a winged unicorn, a manticore and several other forms she did not recognise writhing within the enchanted fire. The heat was intense and she felt her skin almost crackling as it blasted back at her. The lower benches had already caught fire and terrified witches and wizards were screaming and moving up the tiers and around towards the doorway trying to escape the all consuming flames.

Several Death Eaters were trying to extinguish the fiendfyre by spraying water on it, which created great plumes of steam. Others shot containment spells which did nothing. Hermione could not see Voldemort or Lucius at all. The fiendfyre obscured them from her vision but she thought she saw Nagini's form rise up before falling down into the flames.

The strange pulsing heat grew and grew within her. It felt like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was as if her veins had been emptied of blood and replaced by liquid fire, she burned and throbbed. It was painful and exhilarating and arousing. People were screaming, trying to beat out the flames on their clothes and their screams only fuelled her excitement. She fed on their pain and fear, every scream strengthening her magic and making the fire stronger and hotter.

She could see Voldemort now, standing up on a bench, blue light emanating from his wand and engulfing the flames. She poured every essence of her being into strengthening the blaze, hoping she could take the snake and its master in one fell swoop. She had never felt so alive, so strong, so powerful. She felt as though her body were suspended on the cusp of immense, almost orgasmic pleasure and she moaned softly with it.

As she made the flames hotter, she became aware of a strange lassitude sweeping over her. Her heartbeat became irregular but still she forced the magic out of her body to strengthen the fire. She wanted to give all of herself to the flames. Her vision began to darken and she fought against it, wanting to enjoy the pleasure a little longer, wanting to see the Dark Lord burn, to see them all burn. But gradually the tunnel of her sight began to close and she was falling towards the flames. She stretched out her arms, longing to be part of the beautiful fire.

 **A/N So a little secret. When I first drafted this she set off the fiendfyre at the beginning of the wedding ceremony not the end and they never actually got married. I got quite a few reviews looking forward to the wedding though and I suddenly realised I was selling us all short so I altered things a bit, I hope it lived up to your expectations!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Hi everyone. Once again I'm sorry for the cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter - I couldn't post a 10,000 word chapter though could I? Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited. Especially to my regular reviewers, I love seeing all your names appearing in my inbox each day. Big thanks to Planless who edited this chapter for me. Of course I tinkered with it once she was done so any grammatical errors that remain are definitely mine!**

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She came to lying on her front. Her face was turned to one side and she became aware of the silky softness of the pillow beneath her cheek seconds before she realised that her back was stiff and sore. She pushed herself onto her hands and knees trying to stretch the tender skin which felt as if it would split open if she moved too quickly.

She looked around, surprised to see that she appeared to be back in her own room in Malfoy Manor. Had she dreamed the whole thing? She glanced down at her body, no longer clad in her wedding gown but in a very skimpy nightdress. She turned her head the other way and finally saw Lucius. He was sitting in a chair by her bed dressed only in a thin silk dressing gown which had fallen open to reveal part of his well formed chest. He was unshaven, his hair rumpled and spilling over his shoulders as he slept, his head at an uncomfortable angle. Hermione gasped when she saw the burns which encompassed almost half of his beautiful face. The skin was red and puckered, fading to a dark pink on his neck.

At the sound of her gasp his eyes flew open and he straightened up rubbing his neck.

"You're awake."

Hermione inclined her head, carefully easing into a sitting position, drawing the blankets over her exposed legs.

"What happened Lucius?"

"You don't remember?"

She shook her head. "Not much, I remember the fiendfyre." She stopped then, suddenly remembering the agonised screams of all their wedding guests. Her hand came up to cover her mouth.

"Was anybody killed?" She asked, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm her.

"So it was you?" Lucius looked intently at her.

"Yes it was me." She was too tired and sore to lie.

Lucius' eyes widened. "I never imagined you would actually achieve such a thing. Even the Dark Lord cannot summon fiendfyre without a wand."

"It was the dress." She said softly, looking down at her lap. "I wasn't strong enough until I wore the dress and even then I couldn't control it…." She raised her hands to her lips again remembering how she had felt, the lust that had torn through her as she had urged the flames faster and higher. She hadn't cared. She wouldn't have cared if every single person in that courtroom had been burnt to death.

"You could not stop it." Lucius said flatly his eyes meeting hers. "If you had asked me I would have told you that the hardest part of conjuring fiendfyre is controlling it. The sensations are overwhelming."

"Does it always feel like that?"

"Yes."

Their eyes met and held.

"Did I kill anyone?"

"No. Several were injured but nobody was killed."

Hermione sighed, not sure if she were relieved or disappointed.

"It was a long shot to expect to kill the Dark Lord with fiendfyre, it is one of his weapons of choice."

"Oh I didn't expect to kill him." She said.

"Then what was the purpose of your little stunt?"

She sensed disapproval in his tone.

"I was trying to kill Nagini - she's a horcrux. The last horcrux."

Lucius let out a long breath. "Horcruxes." He stared over her head for several seconds. "That is what you were doing with Potter and Weasley last summer, you were searching for horcruxes?"

Hermione nodded. "Nagini is the only one left."

"There are none left. Nagini perished in the fire."

Hermione covered her mouth again. "You're sure? You said nobody died."

"I do not count the snake as a person, Hermione."

She looked away from him for a long moment. She did not know how to feel. She had finally succeeded. The task that had been placed upon her and Ron had finally been completed. If only Harry and Ron were still alive. If only there was somebody other than her to take up the mantle and finally finish things. She wiped tears from her eyes and looked back at Lucius.

"Does Vol..The dark Lord know it was me?"

"I don't believe so."

"How did I escape?"

"The anti-apparition wards were lifted when the fire alarm went off. I apparated across the room to you and caught you before you fell into the flames. Then I apparated away."

"Won't that look suspicious?"

He shrugged. "I think not. Everyone was leaving, the Dark Lord was injured and Bellatrix apparated him out of there before we left. I hope that my actions will be perceived as protecting a valuable asset."

"So the ministry will have burnt to the ground?"

He gave a faint smile. "No, I believe the fire will have been extinguished by your loss of consciousness."

Hermione considered this for a moment. "I'm sorry about your face." She said softly.

Lucius reached up to touch the shiny pink skin. "It will heal, the elves have already tended to it."

"I didn't want to kill you."

He blinked. "But you would have done so in order to succeed?"

"Yes."

He inclined his head. "That is as it should be. I am sorry about your back."

"Oh." Hermione had momentarily forgotten the pain in her back, she reached behind her trying to touch it and winced as the flesh was pulled too tightly across her shoulder blades. "What happened to me?"

"I burnt you!"

"What?"

"Your dress protected you from the worst of the heat, only your face is a little singed but I thought it would look suspicious if you were the only person to escape unscathed so I burnt you myself. Your wounds will heal more quickly than those caused by the fiendfyre though."

Hermione processed this information in silence. Eventually she looked up at Lucius once more. "You saved my life?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair but didn't answer. "You plan on killing the Dark Lord?"

"Yes." Her voice was vehement.

"Do you have a plan?"

"Not yet. I never truly believed I would get this far but I will do it."

"I believe you."

She flinched back a little as he suddenly drew his wand. His lips quirked up at the fear that must have shown on her face.

"Obliviate me." He reversed his wand and passed it to her.

"What? No!" She automatically took the wand, subconsciously aware of the power contained within it. It felt strong, masculine, controlling. It felt like Lucius.

"I know too much Hermione, I am a liability to you like this. You must obliviate me, and soon, before I am summoned."

She hesitated fingering the length of the smooth elm of his wand. It had been so good to talk to him. To be honest, no half truths or concealment and now that conversation was to be erased. Her fingers clenched convulsively around the wand. She didn't want to lose him.

"I will still help you, you only have to ask."

There was a burning intensity in his eyes as he spoke.

"Why?"

He dropped his gaze. "You know why."

She dropped his wand onto the bedside table and gingerly stood up. Her back protested but she was able to walk the few steps to where he sat and scramble onto his lap. She took his face between her hands, carefully avoiding the burned skin. She forced him to meet her eyes and for a long time contemplated the dark grey depths of his. Her mind was a tangled mess of emotions. Exhilaration warred with fear and disgust at what she had done. Somewhere inside she still felt unclean, tainted by fiendfyre. She didn't dare look away from Lucius, his eyes grounded her, reminded her of who she was and what she had to do. If she looked away from him she would be lost. He placed his hands gently, tenderly even at her waist and looked calmly back at her. He had saved her life. He had protected her yet again. Something she did not dare name swelled inside her. Then she lowered her lips to his mouth.

There was no finesse this time. As soon as their lips touched they were on fire. To her shame and horror Hermione felt the heat of the fiendfyre rising up inside her once more and she was wanton in his arms as she bit, scratched and writhed against him. He stripped the nightgown over her head and she was naked in his lap, pulling urgently at the cord of his dressing gown to reveal his engorged cock . With a confidence she had not known she possessed she grabbed him in her fist and sank down onto him barely hearing his groan of satisfaction as she began to buck against him. His large hands encircled her buttocks lifting her and slamming her back down onto him with increasing force until she was unable to control her screams of ecstasy. She came, shuddering and contracting around him as he continued to hammer into her before jerking in his own release. She slumped against his chest.

"I'm sorry."

Hot shame replaced her previously burning passion. She had wished to comfort him but the strange power had taken over her senses and she had barely been in control of her actions.

"It's alright."

He sounded almost amused as he took her face in his hands and kissed her, gently this time. "It is a normal response to the casting of fiendfyre, in men anyway." He frowned, "I don't think I've ever seen a woman cast it before."

Hermione stilled, her face against his neck.

"So when you gave me your demonstration…."

"Yes."

"You felt like this?"

"I imagine so, although I do not know exactly how you feel."

She shivered. "Dark, violent, hot, not myself."

"Then yes, that is how one feels during and after the casting of the curse. It is dark magic, Hermione. You cannot expect to harness such power and walk away unscathed."

She reached up to gently touch his burned cheek.

"So after your demonstration, didn't you want me?"

"Of course." He captured her fingers and removed them from his scarred flesh. "But I would have hurt you if I had taken you then."

Hermione looked away. "Your self control is far superior to mine."

"I daresay it is. I have used that particular curse many more times than you." He captured her chin so she was once more forced to meet his eyes. "Besides you had a willing partner with whom to indulge. I would have been forcing myself upon a nineteen year old virgin, our circumstances were not the same."

Hermione shuddered in his arms. "I will never use it again."

He smiled against her cheek.

"We will see."

Then he reached for his wand and passed it to her once more. "Do it now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, take me back to the point where I woke up. I only suspected your involvement, if you deny it I will believe you."

She leaned her forehead against his as she touched his wand to his temple.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered against his lips. "Obliviate."

She took advantage of Lucius' brief period of disorientation to place his wand down on the bedside table and pressed herself once more against his chest. He was looking down at her in surprise.

"Hermione?" He glanced across at the bed. "You were sleeping."

She kissed him deeply, feeling his arms come up around her despite his confusion. "I woke up." She said softly kissing him again. "You saved me."

"You remember?" His eyes hardened. "It was you who set the fiendfyre?"

"No."

She shook her head vehemently, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

"I didn't see where it came from. I remember being afraid though, thinking I was going to faint and you catching me, then I woke up here."

"And somehow ended up naked in my lap?"

She shrugged, "I was glad to be alive."

He looked to be about to say something else but gave a gasp of pain instead.

"What is it?"

He looked down at his wrist where the dark mark emerged from the sleeve of his dressing gown. "I am being summoned."

"Oh." She slid off his lap as he hastily stood.

"I must go." He pressed a kiss against her forehead. "You should get some more rest."

"Be careful," she said softly, catching the look of surprise in his eyes as he left the room.

The last thing she had expected to do was sleep but she had crawled back into bed, lying face down to alleviate the pain in her back. Before she knew it she was awake again with the first fingers of dawn making their way around the curtains of her repaired window.

Lucius was not present at breakfast and without giving his privacy a second thought she searched the house for him. He was not in his bedroom, nor in his study. Eventually she surmised that he had not yet returned from his summons. She tried to dampen down the feeling of dread which pooled in her stomach at the thought of him once more in the company of Bellatrix and Voldemort.

She made her way to the library and sat in her usual corner suddenly realising that she was now at a loose end. There was no need for her to practice with her bluebell flames, no need to scour the archives for information on fiendfyre. She was no longer hunting horcruxes, she was now an assassin and she had absolutely no idea where or how one might begin to study that craft.

She rested her chin on her knees and thought. Was it possible that she had truly managed to escape detection the previous day? The fiendfyre had certainly erupted far enough away from her that it could not be obviously traced back to her. Added to that was the fact that Voldemort had looked inside her mind shortly before she had cast the spell and had seen nothing but fear and panic. Hers had not been the mind of a person about to engage in a potentially impossible piece of wandless magic. If she truly remained free from suspicion and Lucius too, then she supposed it was likely that their wedding parade would be rescheduled. That might provide a window for her to kill Voldemort.

She almost laughed out loud at the preposterousness of the idea. She, Hermione Granger, was to kill Voldemort. How exactly did she plan to achieve that? As Lucius had said fiendfyre would not do it and she had no wish to ever sully herself with that particular curse again. She had no wand and even if she had, could she really cast the killing curse? She thought of Ron and Harry and Neville and Ginny and Draco. She examined the scorched backs of her hands. She thought of the days she had spent in the dark beneath Malfoy Manor and she knew the answer to that particular question. But it did not solve the problem of her lack of wand.

As she looked at her burned hands, the jewelled eyes of the snake on her ring finger met her own. It raised its head and blinked at her before becoming quiescent once more. She stared in surprise not certain that she really believed her own eyes. She tentatively touched the snakes' head, it remained motionless. She twisted the ring on her finger and then carefully tried to slip it over the knuckle. The snake reared up and hissed at her, she pulled back her hand abruptly staring open-mouthed at her wedding ring. She didn't dare try to remove it again. It seemed that this particular reminder of her newly married status would not be easily cast aside. Her thumb unconsciously toying with the back of the ring where the malevolent decoration could not reach her, she fretted over the whereabouts of her husband.

She was pacing the library when Lucius sought her out. It took twenty-eight steps to cross from one side to the other. Exactly double the number it had taken to cross her cell. He interrupted her midway across the floor, clearing his throat in the doorway. She turned to look at him, relieved to see that he appeared uninjured save for the burn on his face which was already fading. He was dressed once more in his immaculate robes, his hair pulled back away from his face, secured with a thin strip of leather. She was surprised at when her first instinct was to embrace him. She dampened it down, wondering if the fiendfyre was still affecting her.

"Miss Granger." He came further into the room and leaned against the desk regarding her closely.

"Lucius." Just because she was no longer Hermione did not mean that she would revert to formalities. She thought his lips lifted a fraction at her use of his given name. She returned his regard. "I was worried about you."

He looked faintly surprised. "Why?"

"I thought that you might be blamed for our disastrous wedding, that I might find myself engaged to Fenrir Greyback by this evening." She did not have to feign the shudder of disdain.

Lucius shook his head. "Why would you be blamed? Our intelligence informs us that the fiendfyre was cast by one of the resistance."

"The resistance?"

"Yes, a gang of rebels, lead by Bill Weasley. Bellatrix believes they had someone penetrate the ministry and set off the fiendfyre in order to sabotage the wedding."

Hermione was barely listening. She sank into the nearest chair.

"Did you say Bill Weasley?"

Lucius nodded tersely, "I wouldn't have thought it possible if it were any other member of the family but he is certainly more than capable of the act."

"Bill's alive."

The coldness that surrounded Hermione for the past few months suddenly began to thaw and tears threatened behind her eyes. She had truly believed that everyone she had ever cared about was dead. Admittedly, she and Bill had never been close, but he had been part of the great amorphous Weasley package which had absorbed her and Harry into its core. Finding out that Bill still lived penetrated all of her shields, it somehow gave her something to live for. She pushed down the sudden feeling of hope inside and retreated into her mental library.

Lucius was looking at her, his head tilted to one side.

"I had no idea you cared so deeply for him." His words were carefully devoid of emotion.

Hermione didn't answer. Instead she walked to the window and looked out over the grounds of the Manor.

"Has our wedding parade been rescheduled?" She finally asked.

Lucius shook his head. "The Dark Lord is injured, at present he is not in any state to attend the event and without his presence it would be pointless."

Hope surged in Hermione's heart. "Injured? Is it severe?"

Lucius frowned. "It is hard to say. He seems weaker than previously and the burns he suffered would have killed a lesser wizard. But he is recuperating, it will not be long before he regains his full strength."

Before she could say anything else Lucius came to stand at the window beside her.

"He will recover." He said softly, not looking at her. "And when he does he will crush the resistance and you will be forced to declare your allegiance to him and to me. All they bought you was time."

Hermione looked down at the ring on her finger, the snake sleeping once more. Lucius' gaze followed hers.

"You should have left when I offered you the chance." His words were pained.

She did not reply. There seemed to be little left to say.

The following morning Hermione hopefully put on her running clothes and went downstairs. There was no sign of Lucius but her attention was immediately caught by the vast front door. It stood ajar, a sliver of light rolling out across the flagstones towards her like a red carpet . Looking around her, almost guiltily she pushed open the door and stepped out into weak, early morning sunlight. At any moment she expected Lucius or Voldemort himself to appear and drag her back inside but nobody came. She began to jog slowly away from the house.

She took their usual route, still expecting Lucius to catch her up or meet her along the way but there was no sign of him. She enjoyed the solitude. It was so peaceful being outside alone, able to run at her own pace, drop her shields and simply be. Her circuit took her past the manor gates. She stopped in her tracks staring up at them. They stood at least twelve feet tall, wrought iron, formidable and impenetrable. Finally she placed a hand on the cool metal. With an ear piercing shriek they swung open.

Hermione stared. It was a trick. It had to be a trick. If she tried to walk through the wards would tear her to pieces. She picked up a stone and threw it as hard as she could. It landed on the gravel driveway on the other side of the gates. Next she found a stick and poked it nervously in the air between the gates. Nothing happened. She extended her left arm and advanced forwards her body angled sideways. Nothing happened. Finally, giving a wail of terror as she did so, she ran headlong through the open gates, tripping on her own feet and landing hard in the gravel on the other side. She barely registered the pain of scraped knees and abraded hands. Instead staring around the rolling Wiltshire countryside, unable to believe that escape was so easily within her grasp. She crawled trembling to the side of the gates and sat, leaning her back against the solid sandstone wall.

Lucius must have allowed this. The wards around Malfoy Manor were impenetrable, even had she had a wand she would not have been able to undo them. There was no way she would even have been able to leave the house let alone the grounds without his knowledge and complicity. Once Voldemort knew she had escaped Lucius would be punished. She doubted he would make it through this error with his life intact. She could not allow him to sacrifice himself for her. She stood and walked back towards the still open gates, hesitating on the threshold.

Wandless Apparition was well within her capabilities. Many wizards did it. She fixed her destination in mind all the while staring back at Malfoy Manor. Very quietly she whispered 'Shell Cottage', before disapparating with a quiet pop.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N Check me out - less than 24 hrs between updates - go me! Thank you again for all the lovely reviews. I'm sorry I haven't managed to answer them all, I've been so busy agonising over the next couple of chapters of this fic. I'm sorry this one is just short but I promise there's a good long one on the horizon after we get this out the way... Thank you very much to Planless for editing and saving Hermione from a terrible sartorial faux pas!**

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It was ten past seven when Hermione tiredly slipped back through the heavy oak door of Malfoy Manor. She glanced down at her grubby jeans and trainers. She was late for dinner. She wondered which Lucius considered the greater crime, being late for a meal or being underdressed. Her stomach rumbled and she opted to risk the latter.

She entered the dining room as unobtrusively as possible.

"Miss Granger." Lucius had already started eating and sprang to his feet in surprise at her entrance only just catching his napkin before it hit the ground. He stared at her confusion written across his usually inscrutable countenance. "I was not expecting you."

"Evidently not." Hermione dropped into her usual chair noticing that there was no place setting for her. He really had expected her to leave. She looked up at him. He had taken his seat once more and was regarding her curiously.

"You know that's not my name any more?" She gently reprimanded him, unconsciously rubbing her thumb against the back of her wedding ring. His steady gaze faltered and she thought he winced at her words. Was the thought of their marriage so disgusting to him? She did not provide him with an explanation regarding her whereabouts that day and he did not ask for one. Instead he summoned a house elf. A place was quickly prepared for Hermione and a portion of dinner appeared in front of her.

She ate hungrily, ignoring the assessing looks Lucius continued to shoot her way. When the meal was over she folded her hands in her lap and looked across the table at him. Her body thrummed with nervous tension. The time for half truths and evasions had passed. She had reached the point where she needed to show her hand and hope that whatever there was between herself and Lucius Malfoy it was sufficient to entice him into helping her. He had already saved her life more than once, could he be compelled to go a step further?

"I need a wand." She said calmly, "and I need you to take me with you next time you are summoned."

Under different circumstances she might have been amused by the gobsmacked expression which superimposed itself over his usually reserved countenance. Seeing Lucius Malfoy with his jaw almost on the table was a sight she imagined few were privileged to witness. As the silence between them expanded and thickened though she wished he would stop staring at her as if she had two heads and actually say something.

Wordlessly he stood up from the table and walked out of the room. Hermione stared after his rigid back for a moment. If he was going to summon his fellow death eaters in order to turn her in surely he would have done it from the dining room. Nonetheless she supposed she should follow him and try to reason with him. She had expected him to question her, at least discuss her plan, not just simply walk away as if she hadn't spoken.

He was already out of sight by the time she made it to the hallway and she listened carefully for the click of his cane on the flagstone floors. Eventually she heard a faint tapping coming from the East wing of the manor and she set off in her belated pursuit. Lucius had entered a room which she knew to be his study. She had only ever put her head around the door once before, when she had searched the house for him the previous day. Now though, he had left the door ajar which she took as an invitation to cross the threshold into the well appointed, book lined room. Lucius was sitting behind a large mahogany desk topped with green leather. His hands were placed flat on the surface and he was staring straight ahead, directly at Hermione although she was completely certain that he had not even noticed her entry.

"Lucius?" She hesitantly drew closer. He looked up at her voice and his grey eyes were filled with such immense sorrow that Hermione was stopped in her tracks. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong and then quickly closed it again, what business was it of hers anyway? She remembered the words she had spoken only two short weeks before. _We are not friends Lucius._

He leaned down and drew open a drawer. Hermione watched with interest and some trepidation as he removed a long, slim box which he placed on the desk. For a moment his elegant hands rested on top of it his eyes filled with indecision. Then he visibly squared his jaw and pushed the package across the wood towards Hermione.

She moved fully into the room and slid the box the rest of the way across the desk until it lay just in front of her. Her fingers trembled with anticipation as she lifted the cardboard lid, certain, yet afraid of what she would find inside. Her trembling hand was already moving towards the wand, her fingers eager to grasp the handle, her whole body yearning for the connection that she had been so long denied. But the sight of the hawthorn wand in the box before her caused her to snatch her hand back, cradling it against her chest. She knew that wand. Harry had carried it for the last few months before the battle of Hogwarts where she had been captured and he had died.

"That's Draco's wand." She said softly, not daring to look at Lucius.

"Take it." His normally smooth voice was barely recognisable.

She hesitated.

"Take it."

Very slowly she reached into the box and ran her fingers along the warm wood. She felt a tingle run up her hand. It seemed fanciful but she felt as if the wand had spoken to her, had quietly voiced its approval. She curled her fingers around the handle and lifted it from the box. It felt weightless in her hand, like an extension of her arm; it felt like her own. As she slowly raised it in front of her a waterfall of pink sparks flew from the end. She heard Lucius gasp and finally she dared to meet his gaze. Tears were running unchecked down his cheeks and he made no attempt to rub them away even when he acknowledged Hermione's eyes on his. She looked away from him, focusing once more on the wand in her hand and murmured "Avis." A flock of white paper birds erupted from the end of the wand and circled briefly around her head before nose diving into the wastepaper basket in the corner.

Placing the wand down on the desk once more she moved towards Lucius, uncertain of her welcome but feeling a desperate need to comfort him. Suddenly her own pain, her own loss seemed so trivial in comparison to his. Of course she had lost her friends and her freedom but her parents at least were safe, somewhere. Lucius had lost his _child._ For a brief moment the coldness inside her thawed and she was overwhelmed with his pain. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you."

He stiffened at her touch, then his hand reached up to cover her own and they stood in silence both lost in their own thoughts.

She had left him shortly after. There seemed to be no more to say. She carried Draco's wand almost reverently with her and once ensconced in the safety of her own room indulged herself in a frenzy of magic so cataclysmic that she was surprised the entire building did not collapse. She had to force herself to stop, acknowledging that if Lucius was summoned that evening she would be too exhausted to carry out her plan.

Stripping her clothes off and climbing into bed she placed the wand beneath her pillow. Now all she could do was wait.

They did not discuss her plan in the days that passed. Lucius was cool and reserved towards her, speaking little and spending hours locked away in his study. Sometimes he joined her in her morning run, sometimes not. The front door remained unlocked though and Hermione reveled in the joy of being able to go outside whenever she pleased.

Now that their time together was reaching its inevitable end she found herself more and more drawn to Lucius. For all that they had shared a home and a bed the man was still almost a complete enigma to her. Strangest of all was the vague sense of loss she felt when she considered their forthcoming separation. Whilst she longed for an ending whether through Voldemort's death or her own she felt genuine regret that she had not got to know Lucius better, that circumstances could not have been different between them. For all his cold curtsey she sensed that Lucius might share her feelings. She caught him looking at her sometimes when he thought her unaware, his cool grey eyed stare boring into her as the muscle in his jaw flicked with tension. On more than one occasion he seemed about to speak but each time he looked away at the last moment, lips pursed. Hermione did not have the confidence to push him on what he was leaving unsaid.

It was this strange feeling of regret which had compelled her to his bedroom the night he had given her Draco's wand. She hadn't planned it. She had climbed into her own bed, slipping her new wand under the pillow with a sigh of contentment. She had laid still, eyes closed, patiently waiting for sleep to claim her. It had failed to come. She had meditated, focusing on the candle flame, clearing her mind and slipping into unconsciousness only to sit bolt upright thirty minutes later her heart pounding from a half remembered dream. She had lain down once more, breathing steadily but had been unable to forget Lucius' face as he had given her Draco's wand. She had never seen a person look so utterly devastated before. But why did she care? This was Lucius Malfoy. Death eater, murderer, loyal supporter of Voldemort. This was a man who was at least indirectly responsible for the death of her friends, a man she hated. A man she should hate. A man she did not hate.

There was a sliver of light beneath his door and she had hesitated for what seemed like an age on the threshold before she pushed firmly against the heavy oak. Lucius was sitting up in bed, a heavy book open on his lap. He looked up in surprise as Hermione entered.

"Miss Granger, is something the matter?"

He still could not bear to use her married name.

"I couldn't sleep." Her eyes ran over the contours of his naked chest.

He closed the book and placed it to one side regarding her intently. She felt suddenly self conscious in her brief, red silk nightgown. What had she been thinking? Lucius moved away from the centre of the bed and peeled back the covers on the, now empty, side. He looked up at her, his grey eyes inscrutable, a faint crease between his brows. Hermione hesitated for only a second before she walked across the room and climbed into bed next to him. With a brief flick of his wand he extinguished the candles.

They lay in silence for what seemed like forever. Hermione's body buzzed and hummed with awareness. She could feel the heat emanating from him even though they were separated by at least a foot of bed. She was cocooned in his aroma and even the sound of his slow steady breathing seemed to grate on her nerves. She let out a sigh of relief when, without warning, he rolled on top of her his hair fanning down on either side of her face his arousal hard against her belly.

She reached up to cup his face, staring intently at his eyes. The room was almost pitch dark and she could see nothing of his expression but she sensed a tenderness in him which had not been present before and when his lips lowered to hers it was to explore, not to assault. He kissed her gently for a long time. Until she was the one arching against him, dragging his lips more forcefully against her own and grinding herself shamelessly against him.

His hands skated down her body to skim over her silk clad breasts, stroking her already hardened nipples through the slippery fabric before his head followed and he pulled her nightgown aside to lave her with his tongue. She felt his fingers at the apex of her thighs, gliding through her pubic hair to dip inside her, testing her readiness, then, clearly finding her more than adequately prepared he gripped himself and slid inside her.

It was nothing like their previous encounters. There was no element of coercion, no pretense, no drunken desperation or magically fuelled lust. She desired him and only him. Fully cognisant of who they both were she gave herself up willingly to the sensations only he could arouse. She no longer cared that he was ostensibly her enemy, not when she could see the profile of his beautiful face as he moved above her, not when his lips came down on hers once more, as he tenderly nipped at her lower lip before moving sideways to bite gently on her neck. She explored his body with her own small hands, running them over his sides, feeling the play of muscle across his broad back, stroking his silky hair, before finally clasping his buttocks, digging her nails into his flesh and urging him into her. He responded to her touch, his strokes becoming faster and harder, pulling out further each time before plunging back into her welcoming depths. She heard herself beginning to whimper, pleading with him to continue and as she came she heard her own voice, strangely alien, calling out his name with desperate pleasure.

Every night they engaged in the pretence of going to their own rooms. Hermione would climb dutifully into her own bed and wait for sleep to come. When it failed her she would pad down the corridor to Lucius. He would be awake and waiting. They would make love and fall asleep still joined together. Sometimes one of them would wake in the night and seek comfort from the other in the only way they knew how. Sometimes they would awaken together already joined and neither would know quite how it had happened. Always Hermione would slip back to her own room before the morning came as if what happened between them could be denied as long as it was restricted to the hours of darkness.

They never spoke of what transpired between them under the cloak of darkness. During the day Lucius was stiffly formal and Hermione responded in kind. Nobody encountering them would believe the passion that burned so brightly between them each night and sometimes when Hermione appraised Lucius across the breakfast table, coolly reading the Daily Prophet as if she were not even present she began to wonder if their nocturnal activities were merely a figment of her overactive imagination.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello lovely readers. As always thank you all for your reviews, follows and favourites. I've had some lovely thoughtful reviews this week and I feel like I haven't had enough time to write responses which are equally lovely so I apologise to you all. Your reviews really do make my day and keep me writing. Big thanks to _Planless_ for her editing of this chapter. **

**I hope it's ok - writing action scenes is not my forte (I'm more of a lover than a fighter!) so I hope it's reasonably clear what's going on!**

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It was a week before Lucius was summoned. A week during which Hermione became increasingly nervous. A week during which surely Voldemort must have regained his strength. Nevertheless her plan was laid and she would see it through.

She was dressing for dinner when Lucius knocked on her bedroom door. Only Lucius would knock. The house elves came and went as they pleased with little consideration for Hermione's modesty. Lucius entered at her behest and politely averted his eyes from her half dressed form. Hermione almost smiled at his archaic manners. Only a few hours before he had thrust his erect cock into the back of her throat and now he would not even look at her as she buttoned her blouse. Under different circumstances it would have been amusing but she knew even before he spoke why he had come to her.

"I am being summoned."

For a moment she simply stared at him. Panic clawed at her throat. She couldn't breathe. Then she calmly retreated to her safe room. With steady fingers she began to undo the buttons she had just fastened.

"I'll be ready in a minute."  
Lucius nodded. "I will wait outside."

She hurried, concerned that he would go without her. She was aware that the mark caused him pain when he was summoned and she had no desire to add to his suffering. She pulled on her jeans, reaching into the pocket and rubbing at the galleon she found there. Then she exchanged her silk blouse for a cotton top and black hoodie. Slipping her wand up her sleeve she glanced around the room which had been hers for the last month. She would probably never see it again, because whatever became of her after tonight, Malfoy Manor would no longer be her home. She dampened down the strange melancholy that accompanied her realization and joined Lucius in the hallway.

"Can we wait a little longer?" She placed a hand on his arm. "It will be easier if we arrive last."

He nodded, giving a small gasp of pain and then gritting his teeth. Hermione withdrew her wand and disillusioned herself. Then they stood in silence, waiting. Finally Lucius spoke.

"I believe the others will have arrived by now."

Hermione nodded before she remembered that he couldn't really see her.

"OK." She placed her hand on his arm once more.

"I wish you would tell me your plan."

She could hear the carefully concealed tension in his voice.

"It is better that you not know." She said softly, tightening her fingers against his forearm and unconsciously moving closer to him. She felt him sigh against her.

"Very well."

He touched his wand to the dark mark and the familiar squeeze of apparition took hold of her.

They landed in the hallway of the Black house. Hermione had not noticed before that it bore more than a passing resemblance to that of Malfoy Manor. Her naturally scholarly inclinations caused her to notice the similarities in shape and design of the staircase and the dimensions and layout of the hallway even as she looked around in fear. Lucius had pulled his cloak over her as he apparated and, disillusioned as she was, she was almost invisible in the dimly lit hallway. Even so she felt exposed and vulnerable. Luckily, they were alone.

Their stance had altered mid-apparition and Hermione now found herself with both arms wrapped around Lucius' narrow waist, her nose resting against his broad chest. She allowed herself to savour his warmth for a few heartbeats before she pulled back reluctantly.

"What now?" He asked quietly.

Hermione took a step back, finding his hand with hers.

"You do your thing, I'll do mine." She tightened her fingers. "Lucius?"

"Yes?"

She hesitated. "You could go back to the Manor. Nobody would know - I don't want to risk hurting you again."

She remembered his barely healed burns with a shiver. His face formed into a frown.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself Miss Granger, and you as well on occasion, I might add."

It was her turn to sigh. "Very well."

She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back, but only for a moment.

"Goodbye, Lucius."

"Wait!" His fingers clutched hers, preventing her from leaving.

"What?"

"Obliviate me again."

She looked up into his grey eyes. "Are you sure?"

His expression did not falter.

"Yes, do it now."

His palm briefly caressed her cheek and he turned away from her to climb the staircase. Hermione sent a whispered 'Obliviate' after him.

Looking furtively around her to make sure she truly was unobserved she scurried in the opposite direction from Lucius making her way down a narrow staircase which she had been told would lead to the servants quarters. A door at the bottom opened out onto a shabby, stone flagged corridor. When she came to the second door on the right she knocked quietly, her fingers once more delving into the pocket of her jeans. The door swung open and Cho Chang flung her arms around Hermione's neck.

"Cho!" Hermione's throat felt as if it might burst as a wave of emotion swept over her. She remembered Harry's crush on Cho, their awkward flirtation, their 'wet' first kiss and she embraced the other girl tightly almost as if she were embracing Harry once more. Tears were running down Cho's face but she was gently pushed aside as a pair of male arms took her place.

"Neville?" Hermione stuttered. "But you're dead."

"Just horrifically wounded actually," Neville corrected her, loosening his grasp a little. "Thanks for killing that bloody snake though." He shivered. "It's good to see you Hermione."

"It's good to see you too." She looked around, feeling a little self conscious now as she realised that her tearful reunions had been witnessed by several people she did not know. As well as Neville and Cho there were Bill and Fleur along with three stony faced men and one equally stony faced woman.

"Hermione." Bill stepped forward to hug her briefly and Fleur smiled. "This is Sue and Jacob Davies, Adam Flint, and Augustus Crags. They're part of the resistance." He turned to the suspicious looking group. "This is Hermione Granger."

"Aye, we know who she is," Adam Flint spoke with a thick Scottish drawl. "How do we know we can trust her, though? She looks remarkably well for someone who's been living in Malfoy's dungeon."

"I haven't been living in his dungeon," Hermione answered calmly, "I've been living in his house." _And sleeping in his bed_ she added silently.

She couldn't help the flicker of shame that washed over her though as she looked at the grim little company in front of her. They were all gaunt and thin, their clothing ragged and their eyes hinting at desperation. They reminded Hermione of how she and the boys had looked during their months on the run. Their appearance was a stark contrast to her own. She was neatly groomed and well fed, used to sleeping in Egyptian cotton sheets every night. She glanced down guiltily at her wedding ring.

"Did he hurt you Hermione?" Neville's voice broke through her reverie as he hovered over her protectively, shooting Flint an icy glare.

Hermione shook her head.

"No, he didn't. Malfoy has fallen from favour." She eyed up Flint. "Marrying me, a mudblood, is the worst possible humiliation he could imagine. He helped me kill Nagini and he gave me this." She drew her wand.

"That was Draco's!" Neville said in surprise. "He hexed me with it enough times for me to recognise it. Where is he?"

"Dead." Hermione answered flatly, "So is Narcissa. Malfoy won't give us any trouble. Now, who else is up there?"

"Yaxley," Bill answered. "Voldemort, Bellatrix, both Lestrange brothers, Rowle, Mulcibar, Nott and Rosier and three others we don't know. Voldemort's still hurt, hasn't left his bedroom as far as we know."

"How _do_ you know that?"

"One of the Black house elves is a spy for the resistance." Sue Davis spoke up. "Apparently she nursed Narcissa as a baby, and when she died she refused to recognise Bellatrix and came to us."

Hermione processed this bit of information with interest. She knew how valuable an ally a house elf could be. Without Dobby she and her friends would never have escaped Malfoy Manor the first time.

"Pippy smuggled us in here." Neville told her. "She couldn't do it before now, though. She tried but the anti-apparition wards wouldn't let us in. We had to wait until you told us Malfoy had been summoned."

"It's better this way," Bill said grimly. "The whole inner circle is up there now, we can take them all out in one fell swoop."

Hermione could only admire his optimism.

"So what's the plan?"

Flint looked impatiently from Hermione to Bill.

"Do you have it?" She asked him quietly.

Bill nodded and withdrew a shabby looking purple beaded bag from his pocket. Hermione took the worn fabric carefully, dampening down the surge of emotion its sight caused. She drew on her occlumency shields, packing her feelings away to be processed at a later date. She reached into the bag feeling around inside, ignoring the curious stares of her companions, until her fingers closed around a familiar wooden frame. She slowly drew Phinneas Black's portrait from the bag.

"Miss Granger!" The mustachioed wizard glowered at her. "What on earth is the meaning of this? I've been abandoned for months. You know my portrait at Hogwarts is covered?"

"I didn't know that Headmaster," Hermione said contritely. "I'm truly sorry."

Black only harrumphed at her.

"What are you doing now?" He asked, looking around carefully, "and what on earth are you doing in the butler's pantry of Black House?"

Hermione gave a sigh of relief. At least the old wizard still remembered the house.

"Headmaster, You Know Who has taken up residence in Black House. He has killed Narcissa Malfoy." She felt a stab of guilt at the look of pain that crossed the portrait's face - of course, he and Narcissa were somehow related, although she was hazy regarding their exact connection. Perhaps she could have broken the news a little more kindly.

"What of Bellatrix?" he asked quietly.

"She still stands at his side."

"What do you need from me, Miss Granger?"

"We need to know how to get into the master bedchamber." Phinneas raised an eyebrow.

"And what makes you think there is an alternate route into the master bedchamber, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shrugged, "If Hogwarts is anything to go by there's always a secret way into the most important rooms."

"If there's not we'll soon make one." Flint fingered his wand and looked around as if looking for something to blow up.

"Now, now, young man!" Headmaster Black gave him a glare. "More haste, less speed, as the muggles would say. Your propensity to be correct all the time does you credit, Miss Granger."

Neville nudged her in the ribs and smirked. Hermione glowered at him.

"Are you going to help us or not Headmaster?"

"Of course I'm going to help you, girl. There's a passage which leads from the scullery three doors down and comes out behind the panelling in the master bedroom, I had it put in myself."

This time Hermione nudged Neville in the ribs to stop him from voicing whatever smart comment he had been about to let loose with.

"Thank you, headmaster."

She turned to Bill who nodded gravely.

"Right then. Flint, Crags, Sue and Jacob, you go back up to the entrance hallway and set off the diversion. Take out as many death eaters as you can. Pippy will go with you."

At the sound of her name a tiny house elf appeared in their midst with soft crack.

"Don't put yourselves at unnecessary risk. You'll be disillusioned and hidden so you should have the upper hand initially. As soon as that ceases to be the case, Pippy will get you out of there and back to the safe house."

"As if," Flint muttered. "We're not leaving you to all the fun, Weasley, we'll see you up there."

Bill shook his head but didn't argue with the other man.

"What's the diversion?" Neville asked.

Bill gave a genuine smile and pulled something from his pocket which he resized with a flick of his wand. Hermione could only smile too when she saw the box of fireworks emblazoned with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"That should work," Cho said. "Remember the day Fred and George set those off during our OWLS?"

Hermione and Neville both nodded, smiling nostalgically as Bill passed the box over to Crags.

"How will we know when you're in position?" The older man asked.

Cho reached into her pocket and withdrew a galleon.

"Take this. It's enchanted with a protean charm and Hermione has one too. When we're ready to go yours will get warm."

Crags looked sceptically at the coin but nodded.

"All right then." Bill looked around the group. "Neville, Cho, Fleur, Hermione and I will be waiting in the secret passage outside the master bedroom. As soon as we hear the death eaters leaving we burst in. Neville, your job is to secure the door."

Neville nodded.

"The rest of you remember that although he's unlikely to be alone in the room, Voldemort is our primary target, let's try and take out that bastard once and for all."

The others all nodded and the diversion party looked to be about to leave.

"Wait!" All eyes turned towards Hermione and she bit her lip, colour suffusing her cheeks. "I need you all to promise that you won't hurt Malfoy."

The responses of the group were not encouraging, ranging from vague understanding from Cho and Neville to outright hostility from Flint and Jacob.

"Sorry girly, I know you were Harry Potter's best friend and all, but if that bastard gets near the end of my wand I'll take pleasure in blowing his head off." This came from Flint.

"Are you sure he's on our side, Hermione?" Bill ignored Flint's outburst.

Hermione felt herself nodding vehemently, a little surprised at her own certainty. "He won't hurt us."

"Then we'll try to avoid him but it's going to be tough once the curses start flying."

"Why don't you put him in a body bind?" Neville said pragmatically. "Like you did to me in second year. Hit him with it as soon as we get through the door, then he's safely out of the way until the fighting's over."

Hermione glanced at Bill who nodded.

"That's not a bad plan. Knock him out for his own safety."

"Ok." Hermione nodded and squeezed Neville's hand. "Thanks, Neville."

He squeezed back. Hermione drew in a deep shaky breath.

"Alright, Headmaster." Hermione raised Phinneas' portrait so he could see around them. "Where to?"

The passageway was dark and slightly musty smelling. Hermione followed closely behind Bill, the muted 'lumos' cast by his wand the only light they dared to use. As they climbed the narrow staircase which ran parallel to the main stair she tried to calm the tremor of her hands. After years of planning and months of preparation she was about to come face to face with Voldemort with a wand in her hands. She was absolutely terrified. This was not how things were meant to have played out. Killing the Dark Lord had always been Harry's job and it was only now that she had any inkling of the burden that task had placed upon her friend. No wonder he hadn't always acted in the most rational of manners.

Finally the passage came to an ending behind some wood panelling. They crowded together and Cho carefully reached into her pocket, bringing out her old enchanted DA galleon. She, Hermione and Neville exchanged a nervous smile as she tapped her wand against it signalling to the group downstairs that they were in position. Hermione drew in a deep breath and was grateful when Neville squeezed her hand in his sweaty palm.

They could hear voices, she realised. Despite the muffling of the heavy oak panelling Voldemort's sibilant tones were distinctive. Hermione thought she heard a woman's voice as well. She strained her ears for Lucius' clipped drawl but she didn't recognise it. She would not allow herself to think of him now. She could only hope that she would be able to neutralise him in time to keep him out of harm's way. Her obliviate would mean he would react with genuine surprise when they burst through the wall and she could not predict his response. She had to knock him out before any of her friends perceived him as a threat. She took a deep calming breath, gently pushing her emotions to the back of her mind, fingering her wand and focusing on her magic.

They all jumped as the passageway shook with an ear shattering explosion. Exclamations of surprise came from the other side of the wall, there was shouting, another explosion, Voldemort's voice raised in anger and then the sound of hurried footsteps and the door banging. Their time had come. Bill looked around at his group, catching each of their eyes before giving a sharp nod to Cho who levelled her wand at the wood panelling in front of them.

"Reducto."

The wall blew outwards with an impressive blast almost rivalling the ongoing explosions from below stairs. They all blinked at the sudden influx of daylight before the curses started flying through the rubble. Hermione was vaguely aware of Neville identifying the door and securing it before she was almost knocked off of her feet by a red flash of light. She rolled across the floor taking in the scene around her. Fleur and Bill were fighting Bellatrix, Neville and Cho Yaxley, Rowle, Nott and Rosier were bearing down on their group. Her eyes immediately sought out Lucius and she had her wand trained on him before she found her feet. She could not even allow herself to acknowledge the hurt in his eyes as she cast her non-verbal petrificus totalis at him and she barely had time to observe his rigid body falling to the ground because Voldemort was standing in one corner already hurling another curse towards her. She rolled again, gaining her feet and instinctively shielding herself as she sent a volley of non-verbal stunners towards him.

The noise of the room was immensely distracting as she tried to focus on her opponent. She had never been the best at duelling. As she had told Lucius so long ago she had excelled at magic because of knowledge and practice not raw power. It was obvious to her that she was no match for Voldemort, even in his apparently weakened state but surely all she had to do was hold him back until one of her stronger friends came to her aid. She was shielding wandlessly whilst firing hexes at him, his own repeated curses bouncing off her shields but every attack left her feeling a little weaker, her defences a little more battered. She could focus on nothing but the black clad figure before her, his red eyes glowing as he fired curse after curse at her in a fashion that was almost nonchalant.

Suddenly she felt the touch of his mind against hers. She slammed the door of her safe room, ignoring his incursion, focusing only on their physical fight. His mental onslaught was nothing like she had experienced before. He ripped through her mind like a tornado tearing down her defences, ignoring her false passages, intent only on gaining access to her fortress. She dropped to her knees, the effort of maintaining her mental and physical shields almost more than she could take. He was at the door of her safe room, she pushed him back but it was not enough and before she knew it he was inside. He saw her, saw everything, the months of darkness, her occlumency, her wandless magic, her slipping into Lucius' bed, Lucius giving her Draco's wand. She was powerless to keep him out and as he overwhelmed her defences she was no longer able to fight him. She knelt on the floor, her head almost split open with agony, only able to shield as his curses continued towards her.

"Expelliarmus."

She heard the cool voice behind her but at first could not quite make the connection with it and the sight of her wand disappearing from her hand. She turned her head in horror to see Lucius standing amongst the wreckage, her wand firmly in his grasp.

"Lucius."

She scrambled to her feet reaching towards him, Voldemort momentarily forgotten. She was seized from behind in a choking grip and felt the tip of a wand press against her temple.

Everything in the room became suddenly still. Hermione's eyes darted frantically around her. Cho, Neville and Fleur lay crumpled on the ground. Bellatrix stood on the other side of the room her hair wild and her chest heaving, a look of demented satisfaction in her mad eyes. Yaxley had Bill in a choke hold, blood dripped from his temple and his wand lay on the floor at his feet. Rowle was leaning against a table, clutching his ribs. Avery was on the ground by the door and Nott was carefully picking himself off the floor, rubbing at his head. Slowly Hermione's gaze returned to Lucius who stood, not a hair out of place, regarding her calmly.

"Luciusss." Voldemort's voice hissed in her ear, "You were right all along. What was it you said about catching flies with honey?" His grip tightened around Hermione's neck. "Did you really think he would help you girl? That a Pureblood wizard such as Luciusss would ever care for a mudblood like you?"

Hermione drew in a wheezy breath her eyes never leaving Lucius', desperately looking for some small hint that he cared for her, that he would help her. He looked away as if bored, flicking a piece of lint from his cuff.

"Of course she did," he said dismissively, "The silly chit thinks I'm in love with her." His grey eyes met hers once more and Hermione almost wept at the scorn in them. Voldemort laughed in her ear, the sound was chilling.

"Foolish child." He spoke almost tenderly. "Luciusss told us you would try something tonight and he was quite correct. We didn't expect you to deliver us the resistance as well, though, what a lucky co-incidence."

Hermione's eyes met Lucius' once more. "But I obliviated you," she said almost to herself.

Lucius shrugged carelessly. "A simple shield charm, my dear. You really should be more careful."

"I'm sorry, Bill." Hermione looked over to her friend. Her last friend, who was going to die because of her. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Hermione." Bill's eyes blazed with hatred. "We should never have trusted this piece of death eater scum." He broke off as Yaxley cuffed him hard across the head. Lucius sneered.

"Enough!" Voldemort's cold voice reverberated through Hermione. "Luciusss, I believe your wife has outlived her usefulness. You really are most unfortunate when it comes to matrimony. You will do the honours, of course."

"Of course My Lord."

"Miss Granger, does the brightest witch of her age have any final words for us?"

Hermione stared up at Lucius' raised wand. Her head ached, her eyes stung from the dust. Voldemort's arm almost prevented her from breathing. She looked into the eyes of the man she had come to care for more than she had ever thought possible. There was no hint of warmth there, no suggestion that she had ever been more than a means to an end for him. It occurred to her that Lucius Malfoy had manoeuvred himself right back into position as Voldemort's right hand man.

She had wanted to say something then. To pour scorn on Lucius, on Voldemort on their whole sick, twisted world, to vomit out her disgust and hatred until there was nothing left but bile. As abruptly as it had come the urge left her. She was suddenly purged of emotion. She was alone, everyone she loved was dead. She could no longer remember what or who she had been fighting for and it no longer seemed to matter. She looked Lucius straight in the eye.

"I have absolutely nothing to say to you."

Then she forced herself to continue to look at him, because she would not meet death with her eyes closed and she would not make what he was about to do any easier for him.

"Avada Kedavra." He said the words almost tenderly and the jet of green light shot straight towards her. She felt a crushing weight across her shoulders as she fell to the ground.

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 **A/N I'm aware that I've ended on a slight cliffhanger! I'm (a little bit) sorry about that. I've got a busy weekend ahead of me but the next chapter is written I just need to pick at it. I promise it will be posted no later than Sunday evening.**


	15. Chapter 15

**OK so I'm really massively sorry about the cliffhanger. But it had to be done and it did get me more reviews for a single chapter than I've ever had before! Thank you to everyone who reviewed and all the people who favourited and followed too. I must apologise for the brevity of the next chapter. It didn't fit in with the previous or with the next so it has to stand alone but I realise it is unsatisfyingly short - I'll do my best to update again soon. Thanks as always to Planless for her fantastic editing.**

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It took Hermione several seconds to realise that she wasn't dead. In fact, it was Bellatrix's wail of loss and pain that alerted her to the fact she was not only alive but in possession of most of her faculties. As one all of the death eaters clutched their dark marks and Hermione struggled out from the crushing weight of Voldemort's lifeless body. Bill reared backwards and the sound of his head breaking Yaxley's nose reverberated through the room. Seconds later Fleur was staggering to her feet and hurling a small table at Bellatrix who had begun to fire curses at Lucius.

Once more the room was filled with the sounds of fighting as Bill and Yaxley brawled on the floor like muggles in a bar and Fleur threw herself bodily at Bellatrix. Hermione's head was still aching and she shook it vigorously trying to clear her vision. Bellatrix came in and out of focus as she clawed at the blond girl in front of her. Rowle appeared to be firing curses at Nott who was trying to aid Yaxley in his fight with Bill.

Then Fleur was down once more and Bellatrix was advancing towards Hermione, flinging curses not at her she realised but at someone behind her. She heard a male grunt as something struck home and Bellatrix was laughing again, her eyes alight with madness and Hermione was angry, angrier than she'd ever been before. She was consumed by rage, could feel it boiling inside her as the faces of every person she had loved and lost flashed before her eyes. The sight of Neville lying prone by the door, the memory of his parents tortured into insanity by this woman, it only fuelled her anger and she felt something growing inside her, her magic welling up stronger than she had ever felt before.

Bellatrix hurled another curse and this time she heard Lucius, or at least she thought it was him, hit the ground behind her. The witch raised her wand again but before she could strike Hermione stepped into her path. Without conscious thought a ball of blue fire burst forth from her hands and engulfed Bellatrix. Hermione felt a vague sensation against her abdomen but she ignored it. Her rage consumed her and as Bellatrix fell to the ground, writhing and screaming Hermione only made the flames hotter. Bellatrix was begging now, pleading with Hermione to extinguish the flames. Her hair had caught on fire, her tears evaporating off the molten skin of her face as she looked imploringly into Hermione's eyes. The pain of her enemy meant nothing to her, she was filled only with her all encompassing rage, with the need to destroy and consume. She focused every atom of her being into the incineration of Bellatrix Lestrange. Then suddenly Bellatrix was still, and the room around her too.

Hermione turned again, unsteady on her feet, her face suddenly felt cold and clammy. Fleur was groaning weakly, she thought she saw Neville stir. Cho ,Yaxley, Rowle and Nott were motionless on the floor and behind her Bill and Lucius were both standing stock still their wands pressed against each other's throats but their eyes glued to Hermione.

She looked down realizing that the flames she had cast at Bellatrix were now suspended between her hands, their heat causing the air around them to shimmer but leaving her untouched. The rage was still there, killing Bellatrix had done nothing to dampen it. Still it burned within her, this terrible desire for retribution. She looked towards Lucius, his robes were torn at the sleeve and she could clearly see the dark mark etched on his skin, a reminder of everything he represented, of everything that had been done to her and those she loved. Looking around the room at the fallen bodies she realised he was the last one. The last surviving member of Voldemort's inner circle.

She raised her hands, caressing the ball of flames. She knew what she had to do. She had to eradicate every last one of them. Justice would not be served until every dark mark was destroyed. She had been foolish to believe that Lucius was any different from his brothers and in that moment she hated him as intensely as she had Bellatrix and Voldemort.

"Hermione."

Her intention was clear and he said her name softly, almost imploringly but she did not listen, did not care, raising her hands even higher, preparing to release her weapon on him.

"Hermione!"

It was not Lucius who spoke this time.

"Hermione."

Neville had pulled himself to his feet, was staggering across the room towards her. One arm hung limply by his side and blood trickled from his mouth. She ignored him, focusing once more on the fireball which had dimmed slightly.

"Hermione."

Neville had reached her side and, completely ignoring the fact that she was holding a gigantic ball of flames between her outstretched hands, reached up to turn her face towards his.

"This isn't you,"he told her gently. "This isn't who you are. Let it go."

"I can't."

The rage was still there, consuming her. The emotions she had felt in response to the fiendfyre were nothing in comparison to this. Her eyes flicked back to Lucius who still stood stock still, Bill's wand wedged under his jaw.

"You can."

Slowly, painfully, Neville moved until he stood between her and Lucius.

"Get out of the way, Neville." Her voice was flat.

"You begged us not to hurt him."

"He has to die. They all have to die. It won't be over until every last one of them is gone."

He swayed in front of her, wiping away a trickle of blood from his chin with the back of a grimy hand.

"He must have meant something to you, Hermione, or you wouldn't have tried so hard to protect him." He looked desperately into her eyes. "You're still wearing his ring!"

Her eyes followed his to the snake ring on her left hand. She remembered Lucius rubbing his thumb against her palm as they made their wedding vows. She remembered him holding out his hand to her when she lay quivering on the drawing room floor, carrying her up the stairs to her bedroom, torturing Dolohov on her bedroom floor. She remembered waking up to the silent dawn, her hand pressed against his heart.

She lowered her hands, the flames between them dissipating along with her rage. Neville staggered forward to take her in his arms. Without the warmth of her anger she was suddenly freezing cold.

"Hermione, you're all wet." Neville pulled back to look at her. Hermione followed the line of his eyes glancing down at her abdomen where her black hoodie was soaked with a sticky viscous substance. She pressed a cold hand against the clammy fabric looking up at Neville with confusion as it came away stained with red.

"Whose blood is that, Neville?"

Her voice sounded far away and wobbly.

She heard a clatter as Lucius dropped his wand and then once again she felt darkness begin to envelop her. Her last conscious thought was that she really wasn't very good at battles.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N STOP! Anybody reading this who hasn't read chapter fifteen go back and read that first! I've updated twice in one evening and I think that messes with the notifications for some people. If you are still wondering if Lucius really did kill Hermione then you need to go back.**

 **I wasn't planning on posting this chapter tonight but I got a very grumpy anonymous review complaining about my cliffhangers and posting such a short update. I don't care that much what anonymous reviewers think but I do care a lot about all the lovely people who read and review each chapter and I hate the idea that you are getting fed up and frustrated with me so here's the next instalment.**

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They landed soundlessly on the snow covered gravel. Hermione clutched on to Bill for a few seconds as she recovered from her first apparition in three months.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, her hand automatically resting on her abdomen. Bellatrix's final gift to her, an entrail expelling curse had healed weeks ago but the thin silver scar remained along with a strange sensation of always wanting to make sure her bowels were where they ought to be.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

She shook her head, looking at the house in the distance. "No, I'm fine. I'll send you a patronus when I'm ready to leave."

"Why don't I just wait here?"

She reached up to kiss his cheek. "I'll be fine Bill. Go home and check on Fleur."

He huffed out a sigh. "You know you don't have to do this right?"

"I know, I want to, I need to."

She turned away and pushed against the gates, wondering for a second if they would yield to her. They opened without protest and she began to walk slowly towards the house. She took her time, taking in the scenery around her. It was familiar from her weeks of running around the grounds but strange too shrouded in snow with its deafening quiet. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her anorak and wished she'd worn a hat.

She passed the lake where Lucius had cast the fiendfyre and paused to look at its icy surface before continuing on her way. Finally she stood at the front door. She wasn't sure what she should do. Should she knock or simply enter as she had done so many times in the past? She was still wreathed in indecision when the door swung open and, mentally shrugging, she stepped through into the entrance hallway.

The house was quiet. There was no sign of Lucius, or any of the house elves. She cautiously checked the dining room which stood empty. Making her way down the long corridor she tapped nervously on the door of his study, there was no answer. Returning to the main hallway she looked anxiously towards the drawing room but the door was shut and, when she tried the handle, locked.

She started up the staircase, somehow feeling like more of a trespasser with each step. The house was quieter than she remembered. Or perhaps her weeks in St Mungos and then at Grimmauld Place with the hustle and bustle of resistance members coming in and out had simply worn away her ability to tolerate silence. The door to the library stood ajar and she cautiously peeped around it.

Lucius sat at the table she had come to consider her own, his blonde head bent over the book in front of him. She hovered in the doorway before eventually gathering her courage and stepping into the room.

"Miss Granger."

He looked up and his cool grey eyes met hers as he got to his feet. Her stomach did an awkward curl. He looked exactly as he always had, elegant, refined, cold.

"May I come in?" She hesitated.

"That would have been a more appropriate question for the entrance hall, don't you think?"

She shrugged, "There wasn't anybody there."

She came further into the room but her steps faltered as he drew his wand. He smirked a little at her obvious skittishness before he conjured a chair for her in front of his own. She tried to cover her start of fear as she took the seat nervously. They regarded each other in silence for a long moment. He was still beautiful she thought. He would always be beautiful. It was in the line of his jaw and the curve of his cheekbones. The arrogance borne of generations of privilege would never allow him to be less than exquisite.

"I have some things for you." She reached into her pocket and drew forth a scroll which resized itself once it was in her hand. She placed it on the desk. Lucius had resumed his own chair, his hands resting on the tabletop. He made no effort to take the scroll although his eyes rested briefly on her wedding ring as she passed it to him.

Hermione remembered Percy Weasley's response to the ring.

"We can have this annulled Hermione." He had told her urgently, running his thumb over the ring as he sat, holding her hand, beside her hospital bed. The snake had reared its head and hissed at him causing poor Percy to recoil in fear.

"No!" Hermione's rebuttal had been as vehement as that of the snake. "I don't want it annulled."

"You can't possibly plan to remain his wife?" Percy had asked incredulously.

Hermione had shrugged and averted her eyes, her fingers finding the back of her wedding ring. "I don't know Percy, but I'll deal with it in my own time."

"What is it?" Malfoy asked without curiosity, bringing her back to the present with a thump.

"It's a full pardon. It exonerates you of all war crimes."

He raised an eyebrow. "How wonderful. I kill Voldemort and Minister Weasley rewards me with a pardon, if I had known absolution were so easy I would have done away with the Dark Lord years ago."

Hermione didn't say anything, uncertain whether he was offended by the scroll or not.

"How is the esteemed minister for magic anyway?"

"Percy's fine." Hermione smiled a little. "He is very pompous of course, quite puffed up with his own importance but Bill is keeping him in line and I think he's doing a good job."

"And why didn't he show up to your little party?"

Hermione smiled again. "Percy is more of a Politian than a fighter."

She placed a small square box on the table. "I brought this too."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "And what is this?"

Hermione stifled a sigh, he was giving nothing away. "It's an Order of Merlin, First Class."

Lucius rolled his eyes and pushed the box back towards her.

"I don't want it. Why don't you keep it?"

Hermione smiled again. "I have one too, so does Neville, Bill and Fleur."

"And the girl?"

Her smile faded. "Cho didn't make it."

"I'm sorry Miss Granger."

"So am I."

They sat in silence for a minute before Hermione pulled the final item from her pocket.

"This belongs to you too." She said softly, placing Draco's wand on the table.

It almost caused her physical pain to relinquish it. She had gone to Ollivander for a new one but he had struggled to find a match, eventually explaining that she had already been claimed and that no wand would accept her when her magic was tied to another. She had left empty handed and deeply concerned. She knew she had to return Draco's wand to his father but she feared the old wand of Bill's she had tucked away in her pocket would not work for her. She only hoped she would be capable of using it to summon her patronus. It would be long walk home otherwise.

Lucius reached out and picked up the wand, running is fingers down the wood, turning it slowly in his hands. He placed it back down on the table.

"This isn't Draco's wand anymore Miss Granger. You should keep it."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione's voice was breathy and she hated herself for how uncertain she sounded. She hadn't occluded for months now and every fresh emotion stung her brain.

"Good day Miss Granger."

He looked down at the book in front of him and she realised he was dismissing her.

"Good day Mr Malfoy."

She stood up and walked woodenly towards the door. _Stop._ She told herself. _You came here to say something, if you don't say it now you never will._ She took a deep breath and paused in the doorway. She reminded herself that it had been Lucius who had apparated her to St Mungos. Of course she had been unconscious, exsanguinating all over the corridors and his expensive robes. The nurses had talked of little else for days. He had ordered a healer to attend her at wand point and then stood guard over her like a malevolent angel, refusing to let anyone touch her without his leave until it had been obvious that she would recover. He had been gone when she regained consciousness but that wasn't the point. The point was that he had been there in the first place. Despite everything, because of everything.

She turned around and marched back to stand once more in front of the desk. He looked up a flash of irritation in his eyes.

"Was there something else Miss Granger?"

"Yes." She twisted the wand between her fingers. "I miss you Lucius. I miss being here, with you." Her words tumbled into the silence where they hung awkwardly in the air.

Lucius drew in a deep breath. "Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is Miss Granger?"

Hermione felt a jolt of surprise at his unexpected answer. "Of course I do, I'm surprised that you would though."

He placed his finger in the crease of his book in order to mark the page before flipping it closed so she could see the cover. It was a muggle psychology book. She looked at him in confusion as she realised that there was a large pile of similar titles on the table next to him. He gestured vaguely towards the pile

"You think I have Stockholm Syndrome?" She gave a sneer that would have been worthy of Malfoy himself. "You are being ridiculous. I'm the brightest witch of my age remember? I think I know my own feelings." It was the closest she had ever come to a declaration towards him and she was surprised and hurt when he gave a bark of sardonic laughter.

"Ah Miss Granger, your sense of your own self worth is truly magnificent to behold." He stood up and strolled towards her carrying the open text book between his hands. He stopped, when he stood next to her, lowering the book so she could read from the page.

"Stockholm syndrome consists of strong emotional ties that develop between two persons where one person intermittently harasses, beats, threatens, abuses, or intimidates the other." He read out the words in his cool, impersonal voice before turning to deposit the book once more on the table.

"When you were released from my dungeon Miss Granger I was little more than a prisoner in my own home. I lived every day as if it were my last expecting to be executed for my previous failures or the crimes of my wife at any moment. My wife and son were dead, I was isolated from my social circle and the entire belief system upon which I had built my existence had been completely eroded." He did not meet her eye, staring instead somewhere over her left shoulder as he spoke. Hermione remained silent, her fingers twisting Draco's wand over and over.

"I bought these books Miss Granger because I wished to better understand you." He glanced over at the pile of books once more. "But in reading them I gained a better understanding of myself. I began to realise that you were never the victim in our relationship. Right from the outset you used me. You lied to me. You manipulated me. You allowed me in just enough to tantalise me with the idea of what it might be like to be loved by you. But the truth is I was nothing more than a pawn."

He had moved as he was speaking, his voice growing progressively quieter and more intense until he was directly in front of her his accusing finger poking her chest as he spoke, his breath brushing across her face.

Hermione remained frozen on the spot unable to look away as the harsh reality of his words trickled over her.

"I perceived a bond between us." He admitted. "But I have come to realise that it was formed during a time of intense psychological stress. I was not fully in possession of my faculties. Had I been so I would have realised that nothing I did would ever have proven me worthy in your eyes. In short, Miss Granger, I am exhausted with trying to live up to your expectations."

He turned his back on her then and she watched his shoulders as he took several deep breaths.

"Lucius…" She began.

"No." He whirled around to face her holding up an imperious hand. "We have no more to say to each other. My feelings towards you and any you may harbor in return are not rational."

Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest. She felt the inevitability of the moment pressing painfully down on her. There had to be some way to extricate herself from this situation whilst leaving the possibility of a future with Lucius intact.

"Lucius please…." She began again.

"No." His voice was harsher this time. "You do not get to ask any more of me Miss Granger."

He strode to the door and held it open. "I must ask you to take your leave now before I compel the wards to eject you."

She moved slowly towards the door, desperately trying to think of something to say that would change things between them. She paused in the doorway.

"I'm sorry Lucius."

He did not reply, staring straight ahead of him as if she had not spoken. As if she were not even in the room.

She fled Malfoy Manor for the last time, hurtling down the staircase across the flagstoned hallway and into the bright winter day. She did not even try to send her patronus to Bill. In that moment it felt as if a dementor had sucked all the joy from her life and she might never be happy again. Instead she apparated, not even caring if she fatally splinched herself such was her desire to get away from Lucius Malfoy and the vicious, visceral truth he had sliced her open with.

 **A/N Did anybody spot my Labyrinth quote? I have wanted to use that line in a story for my entire adult life!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Well everyone the end is nigh. There's just one more chapter after this one and an epilogue and then this story will be well and truly finished. Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed the last chapter - I had so many wonderful reviews and a lot of appreciation for my (slightly flawed) quote. We leave for our epic family holiday in two days time and I am worrying a bit about how to get this story finished in time. I'm determined to get the next chapter out but the epilogue might have to wait for us to get home...**

 **Thanks again for reading.**

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She had occluded every day for the last three months. It allowed her to function. From the safety of her shields she was able to be the Hermione Granger everyone expected.

She had moved back in to Grimmauld place which, to her surprise Harry had had the foresight to leave to her and Ron in a will she hadn't even known existed. She had cleaned the dusty house from top to bottom. She had helped Neville and Hannah Abbot plan their wedding. She had volunteered at St Mungos, helping to care for the numerous witches and wizards injured in the war or recovering from Voldemort's regime. She had helped with the re-building of Hogwarts. She had taken a healer who specialized in spell damage with her to Australia and accepted with good grace, and a surprising lack of his emotion, his conclusion that the memory charm she had used on her parents had been too well executed to be reversible.

To all intents and purposes Hermione was as bossy and bookish as ever. If any of her few remaining friends noticed the strain behind her eyes or the reserve which had not previously been there they didn't comment. Nobody had escaped the war unscathed. Everyone had their own demons to contend with. But Hermione chose not to confront hers. She could not face the rawness of her own feelings. It was easier to hide them away and act like the girl she had always been rather than live the pain of truly being her.

She was sitting at the kitchen table reading yet another letter from Minerva McGonagall when she heard a knock at the door. She was surprised. Her friends rarely called around without prior invitation and the house had numerous muggle repelling charms which ought to have prevented door to door canvassers. Sighing loudly Hermione got to her feet, pulling the cuffs of her worn sweater over her perpetually cold hands and made her way to the doorway.

Lucius Malfoy stood on her doorstep. Hermione stared at him. She had not realised how much the strain of their time together had affected his appearance. He had been beautiful then, he was even more so now. His skin glowed with health, barely a wrinkle married his expressive brow and his hair was as immaculate as ever. He was dressed, with a nod to the coming spring in a pale grey frockcoat with an embroidered silk waistcoat beneath and an elaborately tied cravat. For just a moment she envisaged untying the cravat and pressing her lips against the warm naked skin she knew lay beneath. It had been three months since she had seen him. Six months since they had been in any way intimate and still she reacted to him as if she had spent the last night in his bed.

She wondered if there would ever come a time when they would meet, the wizarding world was too small for them to avoid each other indefinitely, and he would once more merely be Mr. Malfoy. Would she ever see him as she had before this had all begun? A cold, arrogant, sophisticated adult as opposed to the vulnerable, sometimes fallible, painfully human man who stood waiting for her to speak. She stood staring at him as several long seconds passed and he was forced to break the silence.

"Miss Granger."

Their eyes converged on her wedding ring. The annulment papers Percy had insisted on sending were hidden unread and unsigned in a drawer in the kitchen dresser.

"Mr. Malfoy."

"Might I come in?"

"Of course." She stepped backwards into the dim hallway, standing to one side to allow him to pass. The edge of his coat brushed her thigh and she held her breath so as not to inhale his familiar scent as he passed her.

"An interesting choice of painting." He remarked gazing at Mrs. Black, who was fortunately deeply asleep.

"It came with the house." Hermione began to walk back down the hallway towards the kitchen. If Lucius was surprised at her choice of entertaining space he did not comment. Instead he took a seat at the scrubbed oak table and folded his hands on its scarred surface, completely at home.

"Would you like some tea?" Hermione's tone was desperately stilted.

"I would, thank you."

She busied herself at the range, boiling water, filling the teapot with leaves, locating the strainer. Busy, busy, busy. Busy not looking at him.

Finally she could prolong the task no longer and she poured tea for both of them adding a tiny dash of milk and an infinitesimal amount of sugar to his cup before she passed it to him.

"You remembered."

She swallowed heavily. "We lived together for over a month Mr. Malfoy, I think I remember how you take your tea."

Her hands flitted over a packet of biscuits, Hob Nobs. She could not serve Lucius Malfoy a Hob Nob.

"You are not using magic."

She jumped at the sound of his voice and kept her back to him as she closed the cupboard door.

"No, I am used to doing things the muggle way…..besides."

She forced herself to turn around and look at him.

"After what happened the night you killed Voldemort I don't really trust it anymore."

He frowned. "You don't trust what?"

"My magic, myself….. I'm not quite sure which. I allowed it to control me, I killed Bellatrix and I enjoyed it." She whispered the last few words with horror, recognizing them as the truth even as she spoke. "I would have killed you too if Neville hadn't stopped me."

"Indeed." He placed his teaspoon delicately on the saucer.

"So I decided to take a break from magic, as much as possible. I use it when it's essential but I spent the first eleven years of my life ignorant of it and four months in Malfoy Manor barely using it, I find I don't miss it that much."

She didn't exactly speak the truth. She missed everything about her old life, including her fascination with magic, her hunger to better herself, to master everything there was to learn. But her occlumency kept those feelings at bay and at least this way she wasn't going to hurt anybody.

Lucius regarded her steadily taking a small sip of his tea.

"You should not deny your abilities Miss Granger. You have shown a propensity for darkness which you would be foolish not to acknowledge."

"I do not have a propensity for darkness." Hermione indignantly placed her hands on her hips.

Lucius gave an elegant shrug. "Whatever you say, I did not come here to discuss your magical abilities. However in my opinion you would fare better if you sought out a mentor and learned to control your abilities rather than denying them completely. Much as it pains me to admit it, given your heritage, I doubt you will be able to suppress them indefinitely."

Hermione stared at him in silence weighing up his words. There was an element of truth there.

"How did you kill Dolohov Miss Granger?"

He had changed the subject and her eyes flew to his, her heart rate elevating briefly before she remembered that there was no longer anybody out there to hide from. She crossed the room to the large dresser next to the back door which contained a number of gardening manuals. She selected one and leafed through its pages .

"The foxglove, or _digitalis."_ She placed the book down on the table and tapped the illustration with her finger. "They're all over your garden Mr. Malfoy. One of the most poisonous plants known to man." She looked at his blank face, "Or to muggles at least. The digitalis toxin causes the heart rate to slow to fatal levels when administered in the correct dose."

He frowned. "But you were under the Imperius curse."

She sat opposite him and picked up her own tea.

"I didn't put the leaves in his food, I put them in mine."

She watched as understanding dawned on his face.

"You could very easily have done the same to me."

"You didn't have a habit of stealing my food Mr. Malfoy." She looked down at her tea. "Besides I never wanted to kill you."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the only sound the clinking of their cups against saucers.

"How did you hide the fact that you intended to kill Voldemort from him?"

Malfoy smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards. She dragged her eyes away from his lips.

"I didn't." He answered succinctly.

It was Hermione's turn to frown. "So you were aiming for me and you missed?"

"Of course not. I simply hadn't decided who I was going to kill."

She bit her lip. "I don't understand."

"Voldemort was barely human by the time he died."

She had never heard him say the name before. It caused her to give an involuntary shiver.

"He was capable of extracting any information he required from people's brains. He could see their memories and their intentions."

Lucius took a sip of tea, his eyes far away.

"What he could not do any longer was analyse the information he gained from his victims in a rational way." He smiled slightly. "He knew of everything that had transpired between us, but he could not comprehend that my loyalty would now lie with you and not him." He avoided her gaze, swirling the tea in the bottom of his cup. "As long as I did not decide what to do prior to acting there was no way he could anticipate my decision. Of course there was never any possibility that I would harm you." He continued to avoid her gaze, fiddling with his teaspoon. "You and the Dark Lord seemed equally unable to see that."

The thought struck Hermione that she had hurt him.

"You disarmed me!" She protested. "How on earth could I have trusted you after that?"

"If I hadn't disarmed you he would have killed you there and then."

"Possibly." She hunched her shoulders. "But you betrayed me, you shielded when I tried to obliviate you and you told him I was coming."

"Of course. Even with your rag-tag band of would be heroes there was never any hope of you defeating Voldemort. By betraying you I proved my own loyalty, there was no way he would have allowed me to point my wand at him otherwise. Besides I knew he would break through your shields eventually. In that respect you are much like Narcissa, both of you overestimated your own abilities in deception. If he had seen your memories of our relationship before I had explained it to him he would have killed us both. "

"But you cared about me."

Hermione blushed at how presumptive that sounded. "What if he had looked in your mind when you betrayed me, what if he had seen your true feelings?"

"I occluded."

Lucius sipped his tea once more, seemingly unperturbed.

"But you can't occlude!" Hermione slammed her hand down on the table rattling both of their cups.

"I could not occlude." Lucius answered mildly. "But once you provided me with the ability to empty my mind entirely I was able to improve my rudimentary skills. They would not have held up under intense scrutiny but the Dark Lord had no reason to examine me closely. I had always been loyal in the past. He lacked the insight to realise that I might evolve."

"Oh." Hermione looked down at her almost drunk tea.

"It hurts when the person you care about chooses not to confide in you doesn't it?" His words were silky but there was a bite to them. Hermione continued to avoid his gaze.

"Why are you here?"

The question she had been dancing around for the past half hour finally hung in the air between them.

He didn't answer for a long time and the only sound between them was the chink of china and the erratic beating of Hermione's heart. Eventually when she had begun to think that perhaps she hadn't actually spoken out loud Lucius replied.

"I waited for months for the feeling to go away." He rose and walked over to stare out the back door at the muddy garden. "I knew that whatever there was between us couldn't possibly be real. That any feelings I had for you were brought about by our confinement together and the stress of our situation." He turned to look back at her. "I felt angry at you for a long time. Then I began to miss you. I still miss you."

He turned to look out over the garden once more. Hermione sat, frozen in place her hands flat on the kitchen table. She almost smiled as she realised that their situation was an exact reversal of their encounter three months previously. She had gone to Malfoy Manor then, prepared to place her heart on her sleeve and finally admit her true feelings towards him. He had not even given her the chance to begin. Yet here he was, incongruously clean amongst the grime of her kitchen, apparently willing to listen. She curled her fingers into fists. She could not waste this opportunity.

Stiffly, woodenly, she stood up and came to stand next to him. She felt awkward beside him. She couldn't remember how their bodies had once fit together so seamlessly. It had seemed as if they melted into one another, her contours perfectly shaped to curve against his like pieces in a three dimensional jigsaw puzzle. Now they both seemed stiff and angular, too jagged and unbending to ever fit together again.

Lucius looked down at her and sighed heavily as their eyes met. His hand came up to cup her cheek.

"I will never forget what it was like to make love to your body whilst you kept your mind locked away from me."

She blinked.

"I can see it you know. I can see when you are occluding. There's something in your eyes." He took his hand away. "Something cold."

She opened her mouth to retaliate. To point out how rich that statement was coming from him of all people, but in the end the truth was irrefutable. She moistened her suddenly dry lips.

"You are the bravest person I know Hermione." His face was close to hers. "You have no idea how much I admired you during the weeks you spent in my home. How much I wished I could be like you. " He moved even closer. " But that time has passed. You need to allow yourself to feel. I need you to feel something."

Their bodies were touching, she realised. He had stepped so close that their legs and torsos were pressed together. She could feel the heat emanating from him, his scent enveloped her. She wanted to submerge herself in his being, to make love to him without inhibition or fear. She wanted to love him.

Very slowly like a newborn lamb pulling itself onto unsteady legs for the very first time she began to drop her shields. Layer after layer of protection melted away until there was just her and Lucius. She opened her mouth to finally admit to him everything that she had not allowed herself to feel. And she burst into floods of tears.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi everyone. First apologies - i'm so sorry I haven't replied to all your reviews yet - they made me laugh, cry and blow tea out of my nose (in a good way) and I promise I will reply. Perhaps during the 4 hours I will be spending in various airports tomorrow! My second apology is that this chapter is a bit rushed and I'm not quite happy with it. I didn't want to leave the story unfinished though so here's the final chapter. I will be posting an epilogue when I get back so probably about 3 weeks - I promise it will be worth reading! I may also go back and edit this chapter a bit, it's not quite how I wanted it to be but we leave for the airport at 3:30 am so I need to go to bed.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing.**

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She cried for ninety days. There were brief intervals of lucidity, her body simply couldn't produce enough tears for her to cry non-stop and her skin which quickly became reddened and chapped would would have been eroded completely by incessant weeping. Nonetheless she spent the majority of every day in floods of tears.

She cried for all the friends she had lost. For Ron and Harry, Ginny, Fred and George, Arthur and Molly. She cried for the possibility of love that might have been hers had Ron not died. She cried for her forgotten childhood. Pushed into a school which was never as safe as it ought to have been at the age of eleven she had never really had the chance to enjoy the endless possibilities Hogwarts and her new powers had offered.

She cried for her parents who were alive, well and happy but had no idea that they had ever been the mother and father of a bushy-haired little know it all whose teeth they really ought to have done something about.

She cried for Professor Snape and the sacrifices he had made for a woman who would never have loved him back, at least not the way he would have wanted her to.

She cried for Lucius and his lost family and for the foolhardiness of youth and the cowardice of adulthood. She cried too because she wished she had treated him differently when she had the chance. She wished she had allowed herself to trust him, to love him.

She cried for the people she had killed, for Bellatrix and Dolohov and even Nagini. She watched Bellatrix burn a thousand times and each time her remorse was like a knife twisting in her guts.

She cried for every mistake she had every made, every hurtful thing she had ever said and when she had cried for all of these things she continued to cry anyway as if her very soul was bleeding out through her eyes.

Lucius came every day. She didn't understand why. She barely spoke to him. Mainly she simply rested her head against his shoulder and soaked the fabric of whatever elaborate robes or beautifully tailored frock coat he wore that day. He appeared to have an inexhaustable supply of these at least. Sometimes she was more bold and would climb into his lap. He would rock her as she wept, his large hands stroking her back. She wondered if he had held Draco thus and the thought made her cry all the more.

Sometimes she was silent. Sometimes she could not bear for him to touch her and she paced endlessly, back and forth across the library floor, weeping in time with her footsteps.

On one dreadful occasion she crawled onto Lucius' lap and bit his neck. Pushing herself against him she scrabbled desperately with his clothes, her lips against his, her hands already at his belt. He tried to resist, told her that this wasn't right, that it wasn't what she wanted. But she was persistent and soon she felt him harden beneath her. He had tipped her onto the carpet of the library and made love to her with a savage intensity of which she had only previously dreamed.

It had worked, briefly. For the few seconds where she lay beneath him, suspended, for all eternity it seemed, on the brink of orgasm she felt nothing. Nothing but pleasure and peace. Then the tidal wave of her orgasm broke over her and she rode its peak her body suffused with ecstasy. In the chill that followed her demons returned with greater force than ever. Lucius had barely had time to rest his head against her heaving chest or remove himself from her still slowly pulsing channel before her tears began to fall once more.

She was surprised when he returned the following day. She wouldn't let him touch her. She paced and ranted. She told him everything. Every single little detail. She outlined her entire childhood, growing up as the only child of two dentists, the fear and excitement as her early magic began to manifest. She told him about the clock in her parent's kitchen which always began to run slow no matter how often the batteries were changed. She told him about council tax and mortgage insurance and direct and alternating current. By the time she could stand for him to put his arms around her again Lucius Malfoy must have known more about muggle life than any other pureblood wizard on the planet.

Her other friends regarded her nervous breakdown with less equanimity than Lucius. They still came to see her from time to time. Neville with more frequency than the others but all of them had lived through their own version of hell. They were so busy trying to rebuild their own shattered worlds that they had little time to assist Hermione in trying to reconstruct hers. She abandoned her projects, gave up all thought of what she might do in the future and gave herself over entirely to her grief.

Three months later she awoke to feel the world had changed. There appeared to have been a subtle shift in her brain chemistry overnight. She sat up, dry eyed and looked around her bedroom. Normally the sight of the empty bed, once occupied by Ginny, would have been enough to start her tears flowing once more but this morning she looked fondly at Ginny's pillow remembering how untidily the red haired girl had slept, arms and legs poking out from beneath the duvet at odd angles.

Enjoying her new found feeling of emotional stability she took a long hot shower, dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen where yet another owl from Professor McGonagall tapped against the window. She fed the bird a few toast crumbs, taking the scroll It bore and putting it beside Minerva's many unanswered missives. As she ate her own toast she summoned parchment and a quill and finally began to compose a response to the headmistress of Hogwarts.

She was clearing out the attic bedroom when she felt the wards shift heralding Lucius' arrival. She had keyed him into the wards weeks ago so that she did not need to interrupt her storm of weeping in order to answer the door. Now she continued sorting through the assorted debris as she imagined him checking the house for her. First he would visit the kitchen, then the library. He would be puzzled not to find her in either of these spots. She imagined him standing on the first floor landing looking confused before he began to climb the staircase. She smiled as she folded a pair of trousers.

Eventually he found her and stood, leaning against the doorjamb, regarding her quizzically.

"Hello Lucius." She felt suddenly shy. She had barely communicated with the man, other than to bombard him with soliloquies on muggle technology, for so long that she wasn't sure how to interact with him like a normal human being anymore. The part of her that was concerned with self preservation wanted to ignore him, to continue with her tidying and to force him to speak first. She forced that part aside reminding herself that she owed this man more than that.

Summoning her Gryffindor courage she crossed the floor and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His skin was warm and the smell of his aftershave caused a tight little knot in her belly. To her surprise he caught her shoulders and angled his head down to capture her lips. His mouth was soft and warm and their lips briefly clung together before he pulled away, looking curiously around the room.

"What _are_ you doing?"

"I'm packing." She waved a hand vaguely to encompass the room and used her wand to levitate some of the jumbled items on one of the beds into a large trunk in the centre of the floor. Gingerly Lucius used the tip of his cane to turn over a rather ripe looking quidditch sock.

"Are these your belongings?"

"No." Hermione shook her head. Levitating the last of the things she wanted to keep and _evanescoing_ the sock with a shudder. She walked across the room and picked up a framed photograph which stood on the chest of drawers. She stood between Ron and Harry, Ron was clutching the quidditch cup and the three of them all looked up at the camera at exactly the same moment with matching expressions of joy. Harry had his arm around Ginny who didn't look up at the camera at all, staring into his face with adoration. Hermione gently stroked the photograph before placing it on top of the trunk and closing the lid.

She looked up at Lucius who still looked a little confused. He probably expected her to burst into tears at any moment, she half expected it too.

"Would you like some tea?" She offered.

"Please."

He followed her down the three flights of stairs to the kitchen where he once more took a seat at the table. Hermione quickly tidied up her breakfast plates and served the tea.

"You are using your wand again." Lucius observed.

Hermione nodded. "You were right in what you said. I need to learn to control my magic rather than letting it control me. I don't think a few household spells will turn me into the next Lord Voldemort."

"Probably not." Lucius allowed stirring his tea and smirking slightly.

"I am pleased to see you looking better." He said carefully after a few moments of silence.

"You're scared to bring it up in case I start crying again aren't you?"

"Perhaps. Even I do not have an inexhaustible supply of handkerchiefs."

Hermione smiled. "I don't believe that is true."

He returned the smile and she watched his face in fascination. "You are quite correct. I could continue to supply you with handkerchiefs for the rest of you natural life without running out, however I am pleased not to have to do so."

They sat in companionable silence for a little longer. Hermione covertly watched Lucius from under her lashes. She knew they needed to talk but at the same time she wished that the conversation could be avoided and the decisions made without her having to go through the painful process of bearing her soul. She had no idea how Lucius felt about her now. Whether what had clearly at one time been a romantic attachment had been destroyed by her most recent behaviour. His continued presence brought her a glimmer of hope at least.

"To what end were you packing?"

He broke the silence once more and she looked up at him sharply.

"I think I'm going to sell the house." She looked around the dismal kitchen which still appeared grimy after all her cleaning. "It will never be home to me and I have too many memories to live comfortably here."

"Where will you go?" The muscle in his jaw flicked as he asked the question.

"That is something I wanted to discuss with you." Hermione pushed Professor McGonagall's letter across the table to him. "I've been offered a job, at Hogwarts. Teaching assistant. I would teach potions and transfiguration to the first to third years. In return I would be trained as a teacher and coached to sit my NEWTS if I wished."

Lucius' face gave away nothing. "And is this what you wish, to be a teacher?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not really sure what I want anymore. But I would like to sit my NEWTS and I would like to go back to Hogwarts for a while at least. Despite everything that happened it still seems like somewhere safe to me. "

"Of course."

Lucius looked away and she wondered why he was being so taciturn about her plans.

She cautiously came around the table and, terrified of his rejection, climbed onto his lap. She breathed out a sigh of relief when his arms came up to enfold around her and he tucked her head beneath his chin.

"I think it is an excellent offer from Minerva." He said softly into her hair. He paused, his fingers tightening a little against her back.

"I wonder if you might consider spending your weekends, or at least, some of your weekends with me?"

"At Malfoy Manor?"  
"Yes, if you can bear to return."

"I'd like that." She said the words against his collar, hiding her smile.

His hands were in her hair pulling her face up to his so he could kiss her again. As their lips met Hermione realised how infrequently they had kissed and when they had it had almost always been as a prelude to sex. Now there was no suggestion that Lucius planned to seduce her imminently. The kiss was an event in its own right and Hermione threw herself into it, parting her lips and moaning softly in encouragement as his tongue gently explored the contours of her mouth.

It was a long time before they pulled apart, both gasping for air. Hermione leant her forehead against Lucius'.

"Aren't you afraid?" she finally dared to ask.

"Afraid of what?"

"Everything. We're so different Lucius. I'm afraid that I'm too young for you, you'll get bored of me sexually or intellectually or both. I'm really rather boring when I'm not fighting against evil dictators. I like reading and studying, that's about it. I'm afraid you will realise how commonplace I am. Or you'll forget what it was about me that made you put aside your hatred of mudbloods…." She tailed off staring up into his grey eyes which, to her surprise had lit briefly with amusement.

"I am not afraid of any of those things." He cupped her cheek with his hand. "But I am terrified that you will realise that you are sharing a bed with a foolish old bigot who is too old to fully change his ways. Or that you will meet some dashing young wizard without a disreputable past who will sweep you off your feet and away from me." He brushed his lips against hers once more. "Or that you will simply come to your senses and leave me."

"I won't." Hermione said softly, her eyes glistening with tears. She expertly patted the pockets of Lucius' robes until she found the handkerchief she knew he kept there. She dabbed at her eyes aware that Lucius was watching her with concern.

"It's OK." She reassured him, "the floodgates aren't going to open again just yet."

"Good."

He kissed her again.

"Lucius?" It was Hermione who pulled away this time. She needed to speak before the words blew a hole in her chest.

"Hmm." His eyes were far away as he continued to caress the skin of her back beneath her jumper.

"I don't want to go back to Malfoy Manor at the weekends."

She realised she had misspoken as soon as she saw the look of hurt in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She pressed herself closer to him as if to take the sting of her words away.

"I meant that I didn't want to only see you at weekends, like I'm some girlfriend who comes to visit every so often." She hesitated, nerves buzzing in her stomach but knowing she needed to make the request. "Professor McGonagall doesn't need me to live in and I could use the floo network. I was wondering if I could come home every night?"

Her whole body tensed as she waited for his answer hoping she had not overstepped his boundaries. His arms tightened around her and his warm hand resumed its stroking.

"I would like that above all else." He said softly.

"Good." She pressed her head against his chest.

"Have you done your own packing?"

She nodded and then gave a shriek of surprise as he stood lifting her with him.

"Excellent, I must say I tire of this dingy house." He set her gently on her feet and clasped her hand in his. "Let us go home."

She smiled up at him as he took her arm firmly in his and apparated them back to Malfoy Manor, back home.

The end


	19. Epilogue

**A/N Here it is - for a while I thought this was never going to get written. I totally lost my muse after going on holiday, I think rushing to try and finish before going away took the enjoyment out of writing and I'm not going to push myself like that again. I would like to say a massive thank you to all my regular reviewers - seeing your names pop up in my notifications really gives me a lift and every time I read a fic and don't review I'm reminded of how much your comments mean to me. Sorry I didn't get a chance to answer all of the last ones. Zeeksmum, Aliduck, Kitty, Artful Scribbler, riaroo400, pgoodrichboggs, silverorbedlioness and Alesia G and all the other people who have reviewed too thank you so much for taking the time to write such lovely, funny, incredibly insightful reviews.**

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She had forgotten what real pain was like. After all she had been through how could she have let go of a memory which should have been permanent? Surely this agony, this living breathing monster which clawed at her guts and threatened to consume her from within should have made a permanent impact on her grey matter. Instead she had retained useless facts. Arithmancy equations regarding people long dead and places never visited took up valuable storage space in her mental vaults. The ratio of butter to flour in her grandmother's scones could be summoned easily to the fore of her consciousness but this, sweet agony had been obliterated and she suffered today as if for the first time.

She tried to remember how she had borne pain before. Somewhere in the depths of her memory she knew she had been its master. She remembered Lucius looking at her with respect and something like fear, almost begging for her to share her secrets with him. In the dusty crevices of her mind she found her inner library. But the shelves lay in disarray, the books were stored haphazardly, the space long abandoned and the door to her safe room hung on its hinges. Her mental fortress reeked of neglect.

She swam back to the surface as the pain ripped through her again. It would last forever she knew that now. There would be no end to her suffering and she closed her eyes and let out a low groan of defeat.

"Hermione."

At the sound of his voice she wearily lifted her eyelids and looked around the dimly lit room. Her over stimulated body was almost incapable of processing anything but the pain but she was dimly aware of a hand holding hers. A hand that was warm and firm and ever so much larger than her own. A hand that remained still despite the fact that she was crushing the fingers, her nails digging into the smooth flesh just beyond the pinkie.

"Lucius."

His name was like a prayer on her lips. He had saved her once before and somewhere in the depths of her mind where hope still lived despite the certainty of her death she wished he could save her again. But as she met his eyes she saw the fear and exhaustion written clearly across his face. He was rumpled and unshaven, his eyes red rimmed , his hair tangled from repeatedly running his hands through it. He looked rather as he had that fateful day in Malfoy Manor when Bellatrix had branded Hermione with her own dark mark. It was the fear in Lucius' eyes that finally eclipsed all hope she had of survival. His fingers tightened around hers and his desolate look provided little comfort. Gently he smoothed his other hand across her sweaty brow.

"It hurts," she whimpered. Giving in to her own misery and fear, no longer able to save face against her defeat.

"I know," he drew their joined hands to his lips and she felt the burn of his flesh against her own just before the pain took her again.

"Is there nothing you can do?" Lucius snapped at the medi-witch who had just entered the room. She startled at his angry, aristocratic tone before drawing herself up and giving him her best professional glare.

"As you have been informed on more than one occasion Mr Malfoy your wife is simply too far along for any sort of intervention, either magical or muggle. We must simply allow mother nature to take her course." She brushed past Lucius with a brusqueness Hermione might have found amusing were she not in the throes of agony. Her husband gave way unwillingly allowing the medi witch to raise the sheet which covered Hermione from the waist down and to look speculatively between her legs.

"My dear you are ready," she proclaimed with an encouraging smile. "Now when the next contraction comes you give me a nice big push and we'll finally meet that baby."

Hermione scowled at her. She made the process sound so easy. The urge to push had been present for some time but it was superseded by fear and exhaustion. All she really wanted to do was sleep.

"How could you let me do this?" her fingers bit into Lucius' hand once more. "Why didn't you warn me?"

His face was stricken as he allowed her to abuse him both mentally and physically. "I forgot," he confessed, "I forgot how awful this was. Please Hermione forgive me."

Her forgiveness became a moot point as another contraction seized her and this time she pushed with all her might, the strange groan which emitted from her sounding almost alien in the otherwise quiet room.

Every minute was an eternity. She was stuck in an agonising cycle. Waves of pain and frantic pushing followed brief periods of respite in which she sobbed, or berated her husband or stared empty eyed at the ceiling wishing only for death. Then suddenly the pain was different, the dull ache intensified beyond that which she had thought possible to a fiery red and the medi-witch was excitedly telling her to stop pushing and Lucius was squeezing her hand. Then she was pushing once more and finally a warm lump of bloodstained and angry humanity was placed on her chest and she stared down in awe at the crumpled, blue tinged face of her daughter.

It was only in that moment and the few that followed that Hermione realised how wrong so much of her life had been. She had been afraid for so long it had become part of who she was. Her childhood had been cut off so painfully early that she barely remembered the unconstrained joy of youth. The years she had spent with Lucius had been a constant battle. Every day she sought to reconcile her guilt with the overwhelming love she felt for him. Guilt that she alone had survived. That she had grown to love this man who had once been their enemy. Guilt that she should allow herself to be happy when so many others were dead.

As she held her daughter she felt the promised and long awaited rush of emotion. As the unconditional love she had been guaranteed washed over her she realised how deeply afraid she had been. She had feared that she was too damaged to love her child in the way a mother should and it was only now, as the baby squawked and squirmed in her arms, that she knew herself to be complete. She reached out a hand to Lucius who was gazing down at them with a look of mingled adoration and terror, his eyes filled with tears. He squeezed her fingers and she felt her final doubts leave. Whatever and whoever they had been in their past lives she and her husband were something else entirely now and she knew without a shadow of doubt that there could be no wrong in that.

Hours later the room had filled with people. Bill and Fleur and their own brood of children cooed excitedly over the new baby. Percy patted Hermione's hand and helped himself to chocolates from her bedside. Neville and Hannah had brought a stack of gifts from the Hogwarts staff which Hermione was methodically working her way through.

Lucius stood a little to one side as his child was passed around like a rugby ball. Hermione watched him fondly. He would never be easy amongst her friends, she had come to accept that truth, but they all tolerated each other for her sake and that was enough.

"Have you thought of a name?" Fleur gently removed the baby from Victoire's arms and returned her to Hermione. Hermione was about to shake her head when Lucius spoke.

"Perdita."

Hermione gazed up at him in surprise. She looked down at the solemn, grey-eyed little girl in her arms.

"Perdita," she repeated quietly.

After their friends were gone Lucius sat on the bed looking decidedly rumpled and not at all himself. He cradled their daughter in his arms his expression now more bemused than terrified. Hermione leant her head against his arm breathing in his familiar scent.

"Shakespeare Lucius?" she asked softly.

He gave a slight smile and pressed his lips against the top of her head. "I am not a complete philistine you know."

 **Three months later**

Hermione woke suddenly from a strange dream in which she was refereeing a quidditch match. Her Slytherins had been soundly beating Gryffindor when she had realised that her baby had somehow taken the place of the quaffle. She had been berating her husband for his lack of care of their daughter when she came to.

If anyone had told an eleven year old Hermione that she would one day be the head of Slytherin house she would have questioned their sanity. In reality the transition had been smooth and almost inevitable.

She had spent her first year at Hogwarts commuting backwards and forwards between the castle and Malfoy Manor. Once it had become apparent that Professor McGonagall was willing to tolerate his presence Lucius began spending more and more of his time at the school. Hermione secretly thought he found the institutionalised environment soothing. Once she had been made a permanent member of staff they lived almost exclusively at the school during term time with Lucius managing the Malfoy empire from an office in Hogsmeade.

During Professor Slughorn's final year as potions master and head of house he had become increasingly less interested in his students. At first it had just been the occasional Slytherin girl knocking on Hermione's door in the dead of night. She had thought that their presence might have had more to do with the fact that the Malfoy scion was somewhere within her apartments than a genuine desire to seek her council regarding woman's troubles and matters of the heart. But word of her sympathy for Slytherin woes appeared to spread and before long any Slytherin with a personal problem sought out her council.

When Slughorn had finally announced his retirement Professor McGonagoll begged Hermione to take his place as head of Slytherin. There were no Slytherin teachers on the staff and, who was better qualified, she had argued, than the muggle born witch who had fallen in love with the last remaining death eater? Hermione had demurred at first but she had seen how difficult it was to be a Slytherin at Hogwarts during those first few years after the war. Her marriage to Lucius had earned her enough abuse for her to sympathise with those who were associated by family or acquaintance with the other death eaters and her soft heart would not leave those children unrepresented. She asked the house to vote for or against her. The vote was returned one hundred percent in her favour.

She and Lucius had not yet discussed their plans for her return to work the following summer but she suspected that they would all move back to Hogwarts and perhaps her dream was an indicator that when the time came she would be ready to make that transition.

She looked fondly across at the crib next to the bed. Their daughter still woke her three hourly during the night and she was grateful she would not have to return to work any time soon. With a start she realised that Perdita was gone. Her panic was short lived as she saw Lucius' side of the bed was also vacant. Blearily casting a _tempus_ charm she found she had slept for over five hours. No wonder she was refreshed although her breasts felt as if they might explode.

She padded through the darkened house searching for her husband and daughter. They were not in the library, nor her old bedroom, nor the nursery. They were not in the dining room and the door to the drawing room was locked as always. Hermione made her way to Lucius' study. She heard her husband's voice as she approached and paused in the doorway to observe unseen.

She could not help but smile at the sight before her. Lucius stood in front of the window with their daughter in his arms. The moonlight lit up his platinum hair and the baby reached up to grasp at the strands which fell over his shoulder. He murmured a quiet litany of reassuring nonsense to the child. He gently suggested she return to sleep, he told her how tired her mother was and how much she needed her rest, he implored her to look out at the stars a little longer. The child responded with a range of bird like noises and finally an angry squeal at which Lucius sighed.

"I think you have exhausted my repertoire young lady, shall we find your mother?"

"I'm here," Hermione stepped into the room feeling a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping.

Lucius smiled in welcome. "We are delighted to see you, I believe this little harridan requires feeding."

"Thank you for letting me sleep," Hermione stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. She savoured the scent and taste of her husband as his warm lips caressed hers. The baby between them gave a wail of protest. Hermione smiled ruefully and gathered the bundle into her arms. She squeaked in surprise as Lucius carefully picked her up and carried her out of the room toward the staircase. Holding Perdita close, she rested her head against his shoulder remembering that he had carried her up these stairs once before. This time she did not struggle and he took her to his own room.

He placed her gently on the bed and arranged himself behind her, as she fed the hungry baby. Perdita reached up to his hair once more as she fed but eventually her eyes drifted shut in milky contentment. Before long the baby was asleep and Hermione placed her gingerly in the crib with the mingled hope and fear of the overtired parent. Perdita gave a soft groan and then settled into slumber.

Hermione curled her body against Lucius, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder, her hand placed over his heart. She was on the brink of sleep with he spoke.

"You were wrong you know,"

"What about?"

"When you said that you were a punishment not a reward,"

"Sentiment Mr Malfoy?"

"I'm afraid so Miss Granger."

She smiled sleepily, "It's Mrs Malfoy."

"Goodnight Mrs Malfoy." His lips brushed her ear as he spoke.

"I love you," her voice was a whisper in the darkness.

"I know."

The End

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 **A/N Phew! I hope that was ok. Sorry if I got a bit melodramatic at the beginning, in my defence I've given birth and it really was that painful! I also hope that I didn't imply that you in any way have to have a child in order to feel complete. I don't feel that way and I often struggle to imagine Hermione and Lucius with children together but I felt in this story it was the right thing to happen.**


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